


We Go Where No One Goes

by the_crownless_queen



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Dadzawa, Gen, HTTYD AU, Hizashi and Shouta are married, M/M, Midoriya Izuku Has One for All Quirk, Shinsou Hitoshi is Yamada and Aizawa's son, Shinsou gets a dragon, YamaDad, also like 5 years older than canon so they can have baby Hitoshi, based of the need to see the valka&stoick reunion with erasermic, here be dragons, hitoshi and izuku are sorta sharing the spotlight here, hizashi is trying, inko is best mum, so there'll be some pain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-09 16:46:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16453655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_crownless_queen/pseuds/the_crownless_queen
Summary: Over a decade ago, a dragon flew away with Shouta Aizawa, leaving behind a broken family.In the present, Hitoshi was determined to prove to his father that he could be a dragon hunter, that he could be a hero.Together with his best friend Izuku, he hatched a plan to bring down a dragon -- and they did.They couldn't have predicted the far-reaching consequences of their actions, though.





	1. Prologue: The Things We Lose

**Author's Note:**

> Heyy so I'm starting a multi-chapter because I have no self-control. I have the entire plot mapped out so we should be good though ^^  
> I aged up Aizawa and Yamada because I wanted/needed them to have baby Hitoshi for the plot, so they're like 5 years older than in canon (and they're about 20-ish in the prologue)  
> Thanks to AnxiousElfWalkingBy for betaing this :)

The worst day of Hizashi’s life started just like any other day. He woke up next to Shouta, sleepily argued over who was supposed to feed Hitoshi this morning — him, apparently, since he’d slept through Hitoshi waking up at four am, barely an hour after Shouta himself had gotten back — and went to get ready for work.

Hitoshi gurgled at him happily when Hizashi entered the room, extending his arms toward the bottle Hizashi was carrying.

“I see what it’s like.” Hizashi chuckled as Hitoshi fell onto his bottle like a ravenous wolf, barely waiting for Hizashi to pick him up before he started sucking. “You only love me because I bring you food — you really are just like your dad,” he added fondly.

Once Hitoshi was done, Hizashi burped him and put him back into his crib. It was still early, after all, and while Hizashi had to leave for the radio station, Shouta and Hitoshi didn’t.

Already, Hizashi could see Hitoshi’s eyelids fluttering closed as his son yawned, and he bit back another chuckle, trailing a knuckle fondly over Hitoshi’s soft face.

“Just like your dad,” he repeated.

He chose not to kiss Shouta goodbye that morning — he usually did, but his husband had come back late last night, and something told Hizashi that if he tried to interrupt Shouta’s rest, he might not survive.

He left for work, happily humming some random tune that was stuck in his head, not knowing that soon he would regret that missed kiss for the rest of his life.

* * *

The thing was, dragon attacks weren’t really _that_ common. They happened, yes, and were certainly a danger that everyone was aware of, but dragons were the reasons why they had heroes around.

As long as there were heroes, people were normally safe. Sure, there was usually some property damage and a lot of burns, and dragons certainly attacked with the will to _kill,_ but usually, the heroes stopped them before that.

Today, however, was a particularly bad example of a dragon attack. Where usually there were only a handful of dragons, today, there were dozens, possibly even hundreds. The mess of wings and teeth snapping in the sky made it hard to see and aim, and Hizashi couldn’t help but be acutely aware of how close this attack was happening to his own home.

To where Shouta and Hitoshi were — probably enjoying their afternoon nap, knowing those two sleepyheads.

It hadn’t been, at first. In fact, the attack had started well away from Hizashi’s home, much closer to the hero agency he worked at.

But as dragons flew in in throves, the fight had moved, and knowing how close it was coming to everything and everyone he loved — even though he knew Shouta was more than able to protect himself and Hitoshi — made it hard to focus.

It made him distracted.

He screamed at the writhing mass in the sky, hoping it would make it disperse and give a chance to the assembled heroes to fight. Most heroes dealt better with one on one fights, or with taking on small groups. Fighting a huge group like the one gathered here was impossible for them — they’d get in each other’s way at least as much as they would in the dragons’.

But Hizashi’s plan worked too well — and, thrilled with his success, he missed one of the dragons splitting from the group and heading off on its own until it was already gone.

Even years later, Hizashi wouldn’t be able to tell what made him think something had gone wrong — but something did. His blood froze in his veins and he faltered, heart suddenly pounding in his chest.

A spiked tail would have taken his head for that moment of inattention if somebody hadn’t intervened — Hizashi didn’t even see who, just heard a “Get your head back in the game!” shouted his way.

He almost went back to the fight, a scream building up in his throat, but…

But that bad feeling hadn’t gone away. In fact, it had only gotten worse. It tasted like bile in his throat, and Hizashi’s eyes flickered toward the nearby block — toward his and Shouta’s apartment, their home.

He looked back at the fight. He should stay, he knew, but it seemed to be dying down. The heroes had it under control by this point, and Hizashi just _had to_ go check on his family. He needed to make sure they were okay.

If they were, if he had left for nothing, he’d take the reprimand. Gladly, even.

But if they weren’t… If they weren’t, if they were in danger, Hizashi wouldn’t forgive himself for not being there.

So, with one last look toward the fight, he left. He took off running toward his place, his heart pounding in his chest.

He saw the smoke well before he got to the right place. It was thick and black, and it burned his throat — Hizashi wasn’t even sure he’d be able to talk, much less scream, but he tried anyway.

“ _Shouta!! Shouta!!”_ he yelled. Dread pooled in his stomach as he had to push his way past fleeing citizens.

One of them — a lady in tears, nursing a bleeding arm — tried to grab him. “There’s a dragon!” she shouted, before being carried off by the hurried crowd.

 _I know,_ Hizashi thought, a lump in his throat.

The smoke was coming from his apartment building — and just like that, Hizashi knew that he wouldn’t like what he was going to find.

He ran faster.

The smoke thankfully started to clear as he climbed up toward his home, and Hizashi could breathe again. Soon, he could see why it had — it was Shouta. Of course, it was Shouta.

His husband was breathtaking to watch — that graceful fighting style was one of a kind. Shouta’s movements were far too quick, far too agile for the dragon to keep up with, and the whipping movements of his scarf acted almost like some kind of fan, dissolving the smoke. The way he dove over and under the flames made Hizashi’s throat clench from a mix of worry and love, but he didn’t dare intervene — Shouta hadn’t seen him, and the last thing he needed right now was Hizashi distracting him.

Shouta’s reflexes and speed were the only things currently standing between his husband and a fiery, bloody death, and all.

Still, it was clear that for all of Shouta’s skill, he was exhausted. Part of it was the smoke, undoubtedly, but not all of it was. Today just so happened to be one of the days where Shouta had worked late — he’d barely gotten any rest to begin with. Shouta was in no condition to fight this hard, much less in these conditions.

Hizashi had only been here for a few minutes, and he already felt like his lungs were burning — he couldn’t imagine how much worse Shouta had it, having been breathing that smoke in for who knew how long.

And Shouta was also weighed down by Hitoshi — Hizashi could see him now, tucked away and protected with part of Shouta’s capture weapon.

It probably was the best solution available, but it wasn’t by any means a good or sustainable one. It hindered Shouta’s movements, slowing him down considerably — but it wasn’t like Shouta could put Hitoshi down when half the apartment was on fire.

It happened quickly, in the end. Too quickly.

Hizashi stepped in closer, aiming to get a better angle on the dragon — one that wouldn’t also harm Shouta — or maybe to try to take Hitoshi off Shouta. Either plan would work; either plan was better than what Shouta was dealing with.

_Hizashi had two perfectly fine plans, and yet he didn’t get a chance to try either one of them._

His actions drew Shouta’s eyes to him instead.

It was just a misstep — not even that, really. Shouta’s eyes went wide as razor-sharp claws closed around his arm — Hizashi thought he heard him say something, but he didn’t catch what. It was drowned out by the wind.

Shouta’s eyes caught his own, and before Hizashi could process what was happening, Shouta’s scarf came undone, shredded where the dragon’s claws had caught on the fabric, and Hitoshi was sent tumbling toward the ground.

Shouta redoubled his struggles in the dragon’s claws, wild with panic, grunting as he tried to reach back for their son and to make the dragon let go, but he couldn’t.

His eyes flashed to Hizashi one last time, dark and pleading, but for a horrifying instant, Hizashi just couldn’t move _._

It was an easy choice; _it should have been an easy choice_ : Hitoshi or Shouta. The man he loved, the man he married and built a life with — or their son.

He knew what Shouta would want him to choose. He knew who he _had_ _to_ choose. Even if it meant breaking his heart.

It was the hardest choice of his life.

The sight of the dragon carrying away the man he loved threatened to wrench his heart apart, and everything around him suddenly became too much — too much noise, too much fear, too much... just _too much_. His heart pounded in his ears and wouldn’t stop, and his eyes stayed fixated on the dark horizon, even as he felt Hitoshi nestled safely in his arms.

Eventually, Hizashi looked down at his little face, tightening his hold on him like Hitoshi might slip through his arms if he didn’t.

_(Like Shouta had.)_

For the first time, the sight of his son didn’t bring him any joy — only pain. A dull ache spread from his chest until it had reached his entire being, until Hizashi only felt numb.

He trailed a finger down Hitoshi’s feather-soft hair absently.

“And you’re sleeping — _of course_ , you’re sleeping.” He sobbed, his face flashing to a bitter grimace for an instant, before another look at Hitoshi chased it away.

He carefully cradled his child’s delicate head, and at the sound of a sleepy gurgle — _Lord help him, it was such an innocent noise —_ Hizashi’s breath hitched.

Before he knew what was happening, a scream pierced through his throat. It was raw and hoarse, but Hizashi still felt it down to his bones. Hitoshi woke up and started wailing as well — did he understand what had just happened? Did he know what they’d just lost?

Hizashi’s next scream caught in his chest, twisting into a sob that raked through his entire body, as if it was suddenly realizing what had just happened. Tears streamed down his face, his silent scream stuck in his caved out chest, and he started rocking back and forth, soundlessly trying to calm Hitoshi’s screams.

And then, suddenly, Hizashi felt arms around him. _Heroes?_ he thought, and he growled warningly when they went near his son. It was the only sound he could make right now — if he opened his mouth for more, Hizashi would scream.

This place couldn’t take him screaming — but he would have done it anyway, hadn’t he still been carrying Hitoshi.

 _Late,_ the thought drifted into his mind, bitter and angry, as colorful uniforms came into focus. _They’re too late._

They’d come just in time to put out the fires that were devouring everything that remained of the life he’d led until then. Just in time to save Hizashi and Hitoshi from being consumed by them too.

But it was too late. Much too late.


	2. Chapter 1: The Things We Find, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hitoshi and Izuku work together to bring down a dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the angst last time...  
> Plot kicks up here though. I hope you guys enjoy it :)

Classes were Hitoshi’s least favorite part of the day. His lessons were dull, he couldn’t sleep there, and his classmates didn’t like him — no, it was more than that: they thought he was useless.

Every day, it was the same thing. Mocking jeers, telling him, “What good is a quirk like yours going to be against a dragon?”

Hitoshi never replied — they were right, after all. Brainwashing would have been a great quirk for heroing — a hero who could make dragons do what he wanted? That would have been perfect.

But Hitoshi’s quirk required for his target to _answer him_ first, and dragons didn’t talk. Dragons couldn’t answer him, and thus his quirk was pretty impractical — he was basically quirkless against a dragon.

His classmates’ remarks didn’t bother him, no — what _did_ bother him however, was when his thoughts flashed to his father and the way those green eyes had flashed with fear and a kind of shameful relief when quirk assessment had revealed Hitoshi would never be a dragon hunter, not with his quirk.

His father’s disappointment really was the only thing that caused him heartache — Present Mic, the Great Dragon Hunter, with a son who would never be able to stand five minutes against the very creatures that gave his father such a title? It was almost blasphemous.

But Hitoshi would show them — he would show them all. Even his father. _Especially_ his father.

He was going to kill a dragon if it was the last thing he did.

He was going to be a hero.

 

* * *

 

Izuku Midoriya had been Hitoshi’s first friend — the first person to believe Hitoshi when he’d said that one day, he’d be a hero and take down dragons, even though his quirk was basically useless against them.

Izuku was coincidentally Hitoshi’s _only_ friend.

He was also the best part of Hitoshi’s day.

They met up after school let out — they both lived near each other, but sadly they went to different schools. Hitoshi thought he might have liked having a friend in his class, and he believed Izuku probably wished for the same. Izuku had never really openly admitted it, but Hitoshi knew he was being bullied for being quirkless — an even worse fate than Hitoshi’s useless quirk, according to society.

Today, when Hitoshi got to their meeting place — a sort of mostly abandoned park a few blocks away from Hitoshi’s home — Izuku was already waiting for him.

The green-haired boy was almost vibrating with excitement, looking like a green energizer bunny for all the world to see, and Hitoshi inwardly sighed.

Izuku was his best friend, but he had way too much energy for Hitoshi to deal with.

Still, he slid onto the bench next to Izuku, muttering a greeting as he sat down.

Izuku grinned back at him brightly, as though Hitoshi had handed him the moon.

“Hey, Hitoshi-kun! Good afternoon! How are you?”

Already feeling exhausted, Hitoshi replied, “I’m fine, thanks. What about you?”

“I’m fine, too!” Izuku’s smile somehow widened. “Thanks!”

Leaning a little closer, Hitoshi saw that he was clutching a pale notebook on his knees. He looked back up at Izuku’s face, and responded to Izuku’s sheepish grin with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s in this, then?” Hitoshi asked. He was well familiar with Izuku’s notebooks — his hero plans for the future, as the other boy called them — but their content varied from quirk analysis to dragonology, passing by costume ideas.

In other words, Hitoshi could never predict what Izuku would drag him into.

“This is it!” Izuku whispered, his green eyes sparkling with excitement. “I did it — _look!”_

It took a moment for Izuku’s words to _click,_ but once they did, Hitoshi’s eyes widened.

There, splayed across Izuku’s knees, was the plan for another of his friend’s insane contraptions. It appeared to be some kind of bola launcher, though it was clearly homemade.

“This is how we’re going to become heroes!” Izuku whisper-shouted — they had learned years ago that drawing too much attention to their plans was only asking for trouble, which was what had led them to this abandoned park in the first place. Even here, with no witnesses, the habit was kind of hard to break.

“With this,” Izuku continued, “we can take down a dragon for sure — they’ll _have to_ let us into UA after this!”

Hitoshi felt his breath hitch in his throat. _UA,_ the best hero school in all of Japan. UA, where his father worked — that was the dream.

“You really think so?”

Izuku knocked their shoulders together. “Come on, have I ever lied to you?”

Hitoshi sighed. “No. But…” He bit his lips. “Do you really think we can do it?”

Izuku nodded, his jaw set and his eyes determined. “Of course, we can do it. You’ll see, Hitoshi, we’re going to be the greatest heroes this world has ever seen.”

Hitoshi found himself smiling. _The greatest heroes the world had ever seen_ — that sounded good. He leaned in toward Izuku’s notebooks again.

“So,” he started, “tell me how this is going to work.”

And with another grin, Izuku began his explanation.

Hitoshi had to admit, it was a good plan. Not that this was surprising coming from Izuku — though his friend’s plans had a slight tendency to go awry — but still, his plan might actually work.

With this plan, and Izuku’s device, they might actually be able to kill a dragon.

And surely, if Hitoshi _could_ kill a dragon, his father would acknowledge him, and stop seeing the shadow of his husband instead.

 

* * *

 

Hitoshi didn’t ask how or where Izuku got his device from. It was clear he’d built it himself — it looked much, much worse than it had in Izuku’s drawings. In fact, it almost looked like it was ready to fall apart.

Absently, he wished he had been more involved in that part of the plan. He wasn’t the best at building things, though, and he had thought that Izuku, having made the blueprints, would have had this well in hand.

Eyeing the device dubiously, feeling the first twinges of doubt. Perhaps he really should have insisted on accompanying his friend more. “Are you sure this is going to work? Because it kind of looks like this is about to break.” He reached out to poke the machine with a finger, only half-joking.

Izuku slapped his hand away with a pout. “Yes, Hitoshi-kun, I’m sure. Now, come on — we need to get to an area with a good view of the sky.”

Hitoshi looked at the darkening sky, and thought about his increasingly nearing curfew. “ _Now?”_ He groaned.

Izuku stared at him incredulously. “Of course — eighty-nine percent of dragon attacks happen at night, you know, and of those, most happen over inhabited areas but a significant percentage also leads back to wooded areas or abandoned places. It’s really interesting, actually, it’s like —”

“Izuku,” Histoshi said fondly, “focus.”

Izuku flushed red. “Oh, right. Well, err, what I mean is we’ll have a better chance to hit something at night — and we’ll need a clear view of the sky. Plus, we don’t want the dragon to fall back into a building or something, right?”

Hitoshi blinked. “You already have a place in mind, don’t you?”

Izuku smiled sheepishly. “... Maybe?”

“Ugh, fine — let me just send a text to my dad. I’ll tell him I’ll be sleeping at your house tonight, if that’s okay with you?”

“You _know_ that’s always okay with me — and my mum,” Izuku replied, blushing again. “Now, come on,” he said, tugging on Hitoshi’s sleeve, “we should leave now if we want to still have some light when we set everything up.”

Hitoshi barely had the time to send his father the promised text before he was stumbling after Izuku and helping him carry his machine.

 

* * *

 

Hitoshi got an answer from his father just as they’d finished setting up Izuku’s device. It just read _Have fun!_ , followed by a bunch of emojis Hitoshi was too tired to try to decipher.

He tucked the phone back into his pocket, trying not to feel guilty as Izuku proudly grinned at him and their machine. Hitoshi had to admit that it looked quite impressive, and he felt a thrill of excitement at the thought that they would finally get to test it out.

It didn’t quite erase the guilt, but it helped force it down. Hitoshi was doing this for his father too, after all, not just for himself. The man may think that he was good at hiding his worry, but Hitoshi could see right through it, and tonight, he was going to prove to his father that there was nothing to worry about.

Even with his mostly useless quirk, Hitoshi would take down a dragon tonight.

“Ready?” Izuku asked, green eyes practically glowing with excitement.

“Yeah.” Hitoshi hummed, raising his eyes toward the dark sky.

They waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally, Hitoshi turned his eyes to his friend, who seemed torn between glaring at the empty sky, muttering calculations Hitoshi couldn’t hope to follow to himself, and looking back at Hitoshi sheepishly.

“Are you sure something’s going to happen tonight?”

“Ah, erm, not really? I mean, there’s been reports of small incidents lately, and judging by the pattern we’re due for another around here soon — I thought it’d be tonight but I might have been wrong —” Izuku mumbled, his voice barely loud enough for Hitoshi to pick up on.

He frowned as a thought hit him. “Wait, did you just say —”

What he had been about to say got lost as fire suddenly streaked across the sky, causing them to instinctively duck away.

“Shit.” The words slipped from Hitoshi’s lips before he could stop it. “That’s a lot of dragons.”

“Yeah…” Izuku’s eyes were blown wide, and he was gaping. “A lot.”

There were too many to count, really. At a glance, Hitoshi could identify at least five different species — Gronkles, Stormcutters, a gigantic Timberjack, harassing heroes Hitoshi couldn’t recognize… There even was a burning Monstrous Nightmare, off into the distance. They all seemed to be focused on the city proper though, and Hitoshi felt a twinge of worry, knowing that this was where his father was.

No, he thought, shaking his head. There was no need to worry — Present Mic was a hero, and he could handle himself just fine.

“Come on,” Izuku said, nudging him out of his thoughts. “We’ve only got one shot at this.”

Together, they started to orient Izuku’s weapon so it was aiming straight at the sky. It was still too dark to see much, but occasionally, flashes of fire illuminated it enough for them to make out the shape of wings, and they tried to follow them as best they could, waiting for a dragon to get in range.

Hitoshi saw it first. He didn’t dare shout, and instead taped Izuku on the shoulder, pointing to where ink black wings had just appeared during the last flash.

Izuku’s eyes went wide again when he spotted what Hitoshi had. “Hitoshi,” he said in a fervent whisper, “that’s a _Night Fury!”_

Hitoshi almost choked. “Are you sure?”

He didn’t want to doubt his friends, but well, Night Furies was basically a myth. Everybody knew _of_ them, but nobody he knew had ever claimed to have seen once since All Might, and that had been _years ago._

“Well, as sure as I can be anyway,” Izuku replied. He started to mutter again. “I mean, no one has seen a Night Fury in like, a decade, and there are so _few_ videos of them. Dragon hunting manuals barely mention them, and —”

“ _Izuku,”_ Hitoshi snapped, fondly annoyed, “Night Fury.”

“Right.” Izuku chuckled sheepishly, and they focused back on the sky.

Their conversation hadn’t been long — only a few moments, really — but the Night Fury had covered an impressive amount of space in that lapse of time.

An impressive amount of space that had put it right in the range of their weapon.

Hitoshi grinned, so excited he felt like a fire had been lit up beneath his skin, and together with Izuku, they fired.

It felt like the world was holding its breath, and then… A pained cry, barely loud enough to be audible, as the dragon crashed somewhere far away.

“ _Ohmygodwehitit!!”_ Izuku screamed, digging his fingers into Hitoshi’s arm as he jumped up and down.

“I…” The words escaped him. “I guess we did.” He couldn’t believe it, it didn’t seem real, excitement started building up in his veins, chasing away the fatigue he carried everywhere. “Did you see where it went down?”

Izuku deflated a little. He rubbed his neck. “Hm, not really? But — but I can figure it out!” He looked at the sky, where they’d last seen the Night Fury before it was shot down, then back at the weapon, and started muttering.

They caught so caught up in it that they didn’t see the dragon coming. It was a Monstrous Nightmare, its large wing beating so strongly it was honestly a wonder they hadn’t heard it coming.

Izuku screamed as the dragon stepped on their only weapon — not that it would have helped them anyway. It had only held one shot, and they had fired it already.

The Nightmare opened its jaw, and Hitoshi swore he saw his life flash before his eyes as he found himself staring at a glowing ember, deep into that cavernous throat. The fear paralyzed him, he couldn’t move, not even when Izuku tried pulling him away.

It couldn’t end like this. Not when they had _finally_ gotten to prove that they could do it — that Hitoshi could _take down a dragon._

A scream pierced into their ears, shooting past them and slamming the dragon into the ground — and away from the two of them. His father’s voice had never sounded better, even if it was a scream loud enough to make his ears bleed.

“Dad!” Hitoshi shouted in surprise. He fell down as the dragon suddenly took flight again — it was disoriented though, and other heroes make quick work of bringing it down.

Hizashi Yamada — or Present Mic, as he was known when out on hero duty — cut an impressive figure against the darkness as he strode toward them.

“Hitoshi, Midoriya, are you alright? And what are you two doing here?” His green eyes were narrowed dangerously, and Hitoshi had to bite back the reflex to look down. “I thought you were supposed to be having a sleepover — this doesn’t look like a sleepover…”

“I —”

“It was my fault,” Izuku blurted out, stepping on Hitoshi’s foot before he could deny it. “I wanted to try to take down a dragon, and Hitoshi helped me. We built a machine, see —” Izuku seemed to notice the ruins of said machine, but he only faltered for a few seconds before soldiering on “— well, the Nightmare crushed it, but it worked! _It worked!_ We took down a dragon, Hitoshi and I!”

His father’s eyebrow rose higher and higher as Izuku went on with the story, and Hitoshi had to bite back a wince. Maybe, he thought, there would have been a chance, however small, that his father would have believed them — if _Endeavor_ hadn’t arrived then, a scowl on his face.

“Took down a dragon, did you?” The hero sneered. “And where is its body, huh?”

Izuku shook, but he started his story again, pointing in the direction the bolt had gone in, and where they’d last seen the dragon before it fell.

 _“It was a Night Fury!”_ Izuku finished, and that seemed to be it for Endeavor.

The man pulled back his head and roared with laughter. There was nothing nice about the sound, though — it was mocking, grating against Hitoshi’s ears in its intensity. It was clear he didn’t believe them — worse than that, even. Endeavor probably thought they were _lying._

“A _Night Fury?_ ” Endeavor spat disbelievingly. “Nobody’s ever seen one — how would you know what it looks like? And shooting _bolts_ into the night? You brats are lucky you didn’t hit a hero or a _civilian_ with that thing.” He sneered at their broken machine. “That is, if it even worked to _begin_ with _.”_

Hitoshi wasn’t sure why he chose to remain silent as Endeavor continued on with his rant. He wanted to defend his friend — he could see Izuku wilt under the pressure, and he wanted to help, but he _couldn’t._ His father’s disappointed gaze weighted heavily on his shoulders.

 _“Thank you, Todoroki.”_ Even though Present Mic wasn’t using his quirk, his voice still cut through Endeavor’s tirade as though he had. “I’ll take it from here — this is my son. I can handle this.”

Endeavor’s parting look clearly said what he thought of Hizashi’s parenting, but he decided to leave regardless.

Hitoshi’s father sighed as he focused back on them. It sounded so sad, so _disappointed_ that Hitoshi’s eyes started to burn.

“I expected better from you, Hitoshi.” His father’s hand was clasped so tightly on his shoulder that it almost hurt. “And you, Midoriya — what would your mother have done if something had happened to you tonight? If we hadn’t been there? Why would you do something so foolish?”

“We weren’t—!” Hitoshi finally found his voice, only for Izuku to stomp on his foot to silence him. Hitoshi scowled at his friend as he tried to soothe the ache, silently asking him why he couldn’t speak.

“We just wanted to be heroes, sir,” Izuku said, his head bent meekly. It was a little jarring to see when moments ago, he had been weathering Endeavor’s vitriol, and it suddenly hit Hitoshi that his friend had to be faking at least _some_ of his mildness right now.

 _But why?_ The question burned his tongue, yet he knew better than to ask when his father was right there.

“Being a hero isn’t a game.” Hizashi’s green eyes hardened. “It’s dangerous, and it’s deadly — and it’s _not_ for everyone. There is no shame in not being able to be a hero.”

It was nothing Hitoshi hadn’t heard from his father a hundred times before — nothing Izuku didn’t know either. But being a hero was their _dream._ It wasn’t just, just a childish fantasy!

 _“I know that!_ ” Hitoshi retorted, his frustration making his voice louder than he’d expected. “But I’m not, I’m not _him_ , okay? Just because a dragon killed dad —” Hitoshi knew he’d mistepped instantly, and his mouth fell shut as his father’s face grew cold.

“No, you’re not your father,” Hizashi replied, his voice icy. “Your father was a trained hero, one of the best, and he still _died._ You’re so far from his level you can’t even _see_ it _.”_

“Then _train me!”_ Hitoshi yelled back, tears burning in his eyes, not even caring that Izuku was still there, awkwardly standing by his side. “ _Teach me how to be a hero!”_

“No.” The word rang in the air like a bell, and Hitoshi’s heart was sliced in a million pieces, his mind awash with a mix of disbelief, hurt, and anger.

He wasn’t sure where he found the courage to ask one more question when he was _barely_ even able to look his father in the eye, but he had to know. “Why?”

“You’re not strong enough,” his father replied bluntly. He turned toward Izuku, clearly considering the matter closed. “Come on, Midoriya, we’ll drop you off on our way home,” he said, and he started walking.

“Are you okay?” Izuku whispered to him, forehead creased with concern. His green eyes were wide with compassion, and something in Hitoshi’s chest twisted.

Hitoshi chuckled wetly. “I’m fine,” he lied. “I don’t… I don’t know what I was expecting, really. He’s never going to see me as more than a failure.”

Izuku shook his head violently. “You’re not a failure!” He hissed. “And we can prove it — we can bring back the Night Fury. They’ll have to believe us when they see it, you’ll see.”

“... I guess.” Hitoshi wished he could share in his friend’s enthusiasm, but it felt far out of reach. His father’s words echoed in his mind, and he couldn’t help but think that even killing a dragon — even a Night Fury — wouldn’t make the man change his mind.

“Come on!” Izuku nudged him, a too big grin on his lips. “We can meet up after school again tomorrow, and we’ll go get that dragon. Everything will be fine.”

Yeah, Hitoshi wished he could believe that. The angry line of his father’s shoulders told a different story, though.

 

* * *

 

Mrs. Midoriya had cried when Hizashi had brought her back her son, hugging the boy to her chest so tightly that the boy had actually begun to choke.

He wished he had thought to do the same to Hitoshi when he had first found them — he had been too worried, though, and now it was too late. Hitoshi would probably rather hit him than be hugged right now, and Hizashi couldn’t blame him.

He wished he could take his words back. He had been too harsh in his worry, he could see it now, but the mention of Shouta, so close to the moment he’d seen a dragon perched over his son… He had lost his mind a bit.

Still, it had been wrong of him. Hitoshi had always been quiet, but he’d never been this silent, this… distant. He had been hurt, and Hizashi hated that he knew he’d been the one to do it.

But at the same time… A part of him held this wretched hope that maybe — just maybe — Hitoshi would give up on his dream to become a hero, and that he’d stay far, far away from the dragons. That he’d stay safe.

It was horrible of him, he knew, but god, Hizashi’s hands still shook from how close he’d been to finding his son’s corpse tonight. If he’d arrived just a few seconds later…

(Well, Hizashi knew what his nightmares were going to feature tonight.)

When they got home, Hitoshi practically ran to his room. Hizashi almost expected him to slam the door behind him, but Hitoshi just closed it like he always did, without a sound.

He almost called him back — they needed to call about his punishment for this foolish stunt — but Hizashi found he didn’t really have the heart to do it now. Maybe tomorrow — and perhaps his earlier words had been punishment enough.

So instead he walked to his own bedroom, stripping from his hero uniform on the way. The leather stuck to his skin unpleasantly, and Hizashi was glad to be out of it. It smelled like smoke too, and that never failed to make him gag, just a little, as images of _that night_ rose in his mind.

He almost ran to his shower.

When he came out, clean and wearing his pajamas, his gaze lingered on the picture by his bed. It was one of the few pictures featuring both him and Shouta that had actually survived that fire thirteen years ago — he had managed to get copies of most of the prints he’d lost that night, thankfully, but the originals still held a special place in his heart.

Shouta wasn’t smiling in the picture. Shouta had rarely smiled as a rule, and Hizashi had never managed to capture one on camera — he hadn’t really thought it necessary. The way he’d seen it, he had the rest of their lives to manage it, and many more smiles he’d get to see.

He regretted bitterly not having tried harder now.

Still, Shouta looked happy in this picture, and the slight tilt of his lips could almost have been mistaken for a smile if Hizashi didn’t have actual memories of the real thing.

“I miss you.” The words slipped from his mouth before he could hold them back, and his fingers traced his husband’s face against the cold glass. He took the picture from his bedside table and sat down on the bed, his head bowed.

“God, I wish you were here. I —” He licked his lips and tasted salt. “I have no idea what I’m doing. Hitoshi… You two are so much alike…”

He sighed past the lump in his throat. “I just don’t know what to do,” he repeated.

He fell asleep with that picture clutched to his chest.

 

* * *

 

His father was gone when Hitoshi woke up, and he couldn’t help but feel grateful that he wouldn’t have to face him for a little bit longer.

He’d cried himself to sleep last night, and between that and how short his night had been, Hitoshi had a terrible headache. He wasn’t in the mood for another lecture, and if he had to weather his father’s disappointed look first thing in the morning, he’d probably scream or start crying.

This wasn’t fair.

He ate his breakfast in silence, reading the note his father had left — _emergency_ yada yada _be back for dinner_ yada yada _love you have a good day at school_ , the type of note that Hitoshi had read a hundred times before.

The paper crumpled noisily in his hand before he threw it into the garbage.

He almost skipped school that day — he couldn’t stop thinking about that dragon they’d shot down last night.

(Had they really shot it down? Maybe the adults were right, and they’d just recklessly put themselves in harm’s way for nothing. Maybe, maybe, _maybe…)_

But Izuku had said they’d go looking for it after classes, and it wasn’t like Hitoshi had anything better to do before tonight. He really, _really_ didn’t want to be home right now anyway.

He regretted that choice not even halfway through first period though, and the day didn’t get better after that. It dragged on, impossibly slow, and Hitoshi found himself gritting his teeth on more than one occasion as his classmates and teachers chattered on about one thing or another.

When the final bell finally rang, the air sang with freedom, and Hitoshi was one of the first ones out the doors.

Izuku was right where he’d said he’d be, armed with a backpack filled with food and drinks, his trusty notebook and a lamp torch.

Hitoshi just stared at him in disbelief — all he’d really brought was his school supplies, and that was only because he wasn’t going home until they were done with this.

“... Your mother was fine with letting you take all this?”

Izuku chuckled nervously, running a hand through his hair. “Haha… Well, funny story here…”

“She doesn’t know, does she,” Hitoshi stated flatly.

Izuku deflated. “No. She would never have let me go — I tried to tell her about the dragon, but she wouldn’t listen. She just kept hugging me — I’m actually surprised she even let me go to school this morning.”

Hitoshi ignored the envious twinge in his heart with practiced ease — it wasn’t like his father didn’t love him, after all. Hitoshi knew he did. It was just that most of the time, he was bad at showing it in a way that Hitoshi could appreciate.

(Sometimes, it made Hitoshi wonder what his father had been like _before_ his dad had disappeared. The possibilities were usually too painful to do it for long, but it didn’t stop him from daydreaming about them every so often.)

“Well then maybe you can bring back a scale or something for her then. She’ll have to believe you then, right?” Hitoshi said.

Izuku’s head perked up, his lips stretched into a painfully hopeful grin. “You think so?” Before Hitoshi could reply, Izuku already seemed to have persuaded himself, because he was saying, “Yes, you’re right, she _will_ believe me if I show her some proof.”

He turned back toward Hitoshi, his grin turning determined. “Come on, then, let’s go get that dragon!”

 

* * *

 

Izuku used the rough map he’d made up last night and a compass to point them in the right direction, and then they walked. They actually had to catch a train out of the city proper, and Izuku’s calculations led them to a medium-sized wooded area. It wasn’t quite a forest, but it was definitely larger than anything Hitoshi had seen in the city itself.

Hitoshi had just been starting to wonder if maybe they hadn’t been heading the wrong way — and he could tell that Izuku was slowly starting to grow more frustrated as he lost hope — when he spotted the trail of broken branches.

His heartbeat quickened in excitement, and he gestured Izuku over. “Look at that! Do you think…?”

Izuku practically started vibrating next to him as he nodded, and they shared a thrilled look.

Finding the dragon after that was easy. It took them less than ten minutes, though those were probably the tensest ten minutes of Hitoshi’s life. Izuku had dug out a pair of kitchen knives from his backpack — how much was he carrying in there exactly? — and they approached the dragon so slowly that it sometimes felt like they weren’t even moving at all.

They needn’t have worried. Izuku’s bola launcher had worked perfectly, and the dragon was pinned down, wrapped in thick ropes that barely let him lift his head when Hitoshi and Izuku approached.

It looked oddly… harmless, like this. Nothing at all like the great and terrible Night Fury they had all heard about in the stories — All Might had killed a Night Fury once, or so the records said, and it had been a terrible battle.

In comparison, killing a tied up beast with a butcher’s knife in an empty clearing felt sort of lackluster.

Hitoshi stood next to Izuku for what felt like ages, simply staring at the dark-skinned beast who was staring back at them with its reptilian eyes. They looked almost… intelligent, and Hitoshi had to look away.

He swallowed, tightening his sweaty grip on his knife.

“What do we do know?”

It was only when Izuku’s eyes turned to him that Hitoshi realized he’d been the one speaking.

“... I don’t know,” Izuku said, his brow furrowing. “I guess we just… stab it through the heart?” He looked down at his knife a little dubiously, and it suddenly occurred to Hitoshi how small they looked compared to the dragon itself. Would they even be enough to reach the creature’s heart?

… No, that was a foolish question. They needed it to reach the heart, so it would. Of course it would.

Hitoshi nodded. His heart rose up in his throat — this was it, this was their chance.

 _His_ chance.

The moment felt oddly solemn as Izuku walked forward, raising his knife high into the sky. The sun glinted silver on the blade, but when Izuku brought it down, _Izuku_ was the one who screamed, not the dragon.

Hitoshi’s heart almost stopped until he realized it had been a scream of frustration and not of pain.

“I can’t. Hitoshi, I can’t.” Izuku sounded near tears, but he stood his ground nonetheless, feet planted between Hitoshi and the dragon. “I can’t kill it, I’m sorry. _We_ can’t kill it. It’s isn’t right.”

“Get out of my way.” Hitoshi almost didn’t recognize his own voice.

Izuku shook his head. “No. I’m sorry but I can’t do that.”

“Get out of my way,” Hitoshi repeated, pleading. His chest felt raw, and his eyes were burning. “I _need_ to kill it.”

Izuku’s eyes burned with determination as he shook his head. “You’re going to have to Brainwash me if you want me to move,” he replied, and Hitoshi tasted bile in his throat.

“Damn you,” Hitoshi whispered, already feeling the fight draining out of his limbs and leaving him shaking. “Damn you.” He hated that he’d been tempted for a moment, but Izuku had dared him to do the one thing Hitoshi had sworn he never would, and short of stabbing his friend first, Hitoshi was out of options here.

“I’m sorry,” Izuku repeated. “I know how much this means to you — believe me, I do. It means a lot to me too. You _know_ how much I want to become a hero.”

“Then why would you do this??”

Izuku’s hands shook as he replied. “It’s wrong. It feels wrong. I don’t know why, but it does — I can’t kill an unarmed creature, not like this. It’s wrong.”

If Izuku had anything else to add, Hitoshi wouldn’t get to find out, as Izuku started to take a small step forward — but as he did so, his right foot slipped on some exposed earth, and he tripped backward with a yelp.

The knife he’d still been holding fell to the ground with a dull thump — mercifully away from Izuku himself — but Izuku himself wasn’t so lucky. He fell right onto the dragon, his bare hands slapping the rough skin.

It was like a storm — lighting, but green, and coming from the dragon. It stroke Izuku, who screamed as his body lit up where the lightning hit.

Hitoshi, who’d been rushing in to help him — and kill that treacherous dragon who’d dared to harm his best friend — was flung out backward, his head smashing against a tree.

The last thing he saw before everything went black was the lightning die, and Izuku falling onto his knees like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've decided to work on this for Nano, and I'm planning to update on Mondays.


	3. Chapter 2: The Things We Find, Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to me, have a chapter :p  
> I hope you enjoy it, it was fun to write :)

Izuku wasn’t really sure what had made him decide to spare the Night Fury when killing a dragon had been his goal for so long. It really was insane to even consider — what kind of hero could he be, if he couldn’t even kill a dragon?

And yet… And yet he hadn’t been able to deal the killing blow, and he couldn’t let Hitoshi do it either. Staring into that dragon’s eyes, seeing how  _ defeated _ it had looked — and almost  _ intelligent _ look… Something deep inside his mind had started telling him this was wrong, that maybe there should be another way, and so he’d decided they needed to let the dragon live.

He hoped it was the right decision, and that he wouldn’t live to regret it.

Hitoshi wasn’t happy about it. Of course, he wasn’t — Izuku wouldn’t be happy either in his friend’s place. His heart beat like mad as he wondered if maybe he hadn’t just lost his best friend over this, but finally,  _ finally _ Hitoshi stood down, and Izuku exhaled in relief.

He made to move — god, he didn’t even know where he was trying to go — and  _ tripped. _

He felt it happen like it was in slow-motion, felt himself fall backward, his arms windmilling in the air as he failed to find any purchase to slow his fall.

Until his hands hit the dragon’s skin, and the world sprang back into motion.

It all happened very quickly. His vision went green, and he heard himself scream, each and every one of his nerves caught on fire. He couldn’t anything.

And then, just as quickly as it had come, everything stopped, and Izuku fell to his knees.

He gasped, patting himself up and down, but nothing seemed to have changed. “What the —”

His eyes flickered back to the dragon, but the beast hadn’t moved. Its eyes were still tracking Izuku’s movements slowly, but this time, when Izuku slowly reached to lay a hand on its skin, nothing happened. There was no green light, no electricity, no pain. Just oddly cool scales, kind of like that one time his mother had brought him and Kacchan to the zoo and Izuku had gotten to touch a snake.

He withdrew his hand, staring at it. “What the hell?” he repeated, and then he turned toward Hitoshi, who had been oddly silent.

His heart stopped as he took in the ring of destruction that surrounded him and the dragon. It looked like a bomb had gone off in the clearing, its epicenter right where Izuku had been standing, and Hitoshi was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh no, no, no…” Izuku started to mutter nervously, casting his eyes around to look for his friend.

He finally caught sight of a familiar purple mop of hair just as he started to taste blood — he’d bitten through his lip again — and Izuku cursed, running toward it.

Hitoshi was slumped against a tree, unmoving, but by the time Izuku skid to his knees beside him, his friend was thankfully already starting to stir.

“Oh thank god,” Izuku breathed, his hands hovering uselessly above Hitoshi’s shoulders.

“Are you alright?” 

Hitoshi straightened with a groan, reaching up to rub his head. “I’m fine,” he said grumpily, and Izuku was relieved to see that when his friend’s eyes flickered to him, they were focused.

Izuku didn’t know much about first aid or medical conditions, but it seemed like Hitoshi probably didn’t have a concussion — though he’d probably have to get his mother to check when they got back. He winced at the thought, unsure of how he’d be able to justify that when he was supposed to be grounded and  _ at home. _

“What happened?”

Hitoshi’s voice dragged Izuku out of his thoughts and he shook his head nervously. “I don’t know. I think…” he trailed off, because even thinking it sounded absurd, but it was what he remembered happening nonetheless. “I think I got struck by lightning.”

“I didn’t know lightning came in green,” Hitoshi replied, his tone deceptively mild as he gingerly stood up. He dusted himself off, wincing a little still, before adding, “Or that Night Furies could produce lightning.”

“I know!” Izuku replied excitedly. “Of course, Night Furies are easily one of the rarest dragon species, if not  _ the _ rarest, so it’s possible this is an ability nobody ever knew to record, but it didn’t  _ feel _ like it was an ability the dragon had? But if so, then what was it and where did it come from?”

Hitoshi cleared his throat, and Izuku stopped his tirade, feeling his cheeks burn.

“Sorry, I did it again, didn’t I?”

“It’s fine,” Hitoshi replied with a nonchalant shrug. “But maybe don’t do it when the dragon with the possibly unheard of abilities is still standing behind you, huh?”

Izuku chuckled nervously. “Right.”

They stood in awkward silence for a while, Hitoshi’s gaze a heavy weight on Izuku’s shoulders.

“Are you alright?” Hitoshi finally asked, licking his lips. “I saw that lightning hit you. I head you scream. Are you alright?”

Once again, Izuku chuckled nervously, running a hand through the back of his hair.

“I’m fine? Great, actually.” And he did, too. Even the slight ache that had been building up in his muscles as they walked through the woods was gone now.

“...”

Hitoshi stared at him incredulously. “You got hit by lightning. How are you  _ fine?” _

Izuku bit his lip. “I don’t know.” He sighed, before perking up as a thought crossed his mind. “Maybe it wasn’t real lightning? I mean, of course, it wasn’t real lightning, it was  _ green, _ but maybe it wasn’t meant to harm?”

“That sounds weird as fuck.” Hitoshi snorted. Despite his nonchalance, though, Izuku could see his friend was still worried, and it made him hopeful that he hadn’t screwed up everything.

He pasted on a smile. “Weirder than us catching a dragon?” he joked, and instantly bit his tongue as Hitoshi’s eyes narrowed on the fallen figure of the Night Fury.

“Yes,” Hitoshi hissed angrily. “Much weirder.”

Izuku had to hurry to hold his friend back as Hitoshi started stalking back over to the dragon. “Hitoshi, what are you doing?” he cried out.

“What do you mean, ‘What am I doing?’?” Hitoshi asked, his tone incredulous again.

“You’re the one who — That dragon could have killed you! I don’t know what happened, but I heard you scream, Izuku, I know I did. And whatever that lightning was, it was dangerous. I know you wanted to, to let it live or something, but we can’t do that! Can’t you see that?”

Hitoshi panted out the last part, eyes blazing with conviction, but Izuku bit his lip again, unsure. He ducked his head to avoid Hitoshi’s pleading eyes. “I don’t think it was the dragon’s fault,” he said, shaking his head. He hurriedly added, “Look, I know that was scary, and yeah, it was painful, but I’m fine now. I swear.”

Izuku grinned up at his friend. “Come on, have I ever lied to you before?”

Hitoshi huffed. “You know you haven’t.” He crossed his arms. “But surely you can see that we can’t just let it, what, fly free? You know it’ll just come back to attack us again!”

At that, Izuku faltered. He had thought of that, of course, he had, but somehow hearing it from Hitoshi made it feel more real. He shook his head though — that didn’t change anything.

“I still don’t think that the dragon had anything to do with the lightning,” Izuku said.

“I don’t… I don’t think it was  _ its _ lightning, if that makes sense.” As he said this, Izuku was struck with the weirdest realization that  _ this was it, this was what had happened. _

Somehow, someway, Izuku  _ knew _ that the energy he’d felt hadn’t been the dragon’s in the first place.

“Besides,” he added, “when I touched it again, nothing happened.”

Hitoshi blinked. “You _ what?” _

“I… touched the dragon again? It was fine,” he hurried to add. “Look, it’s still tied up, it’s not like it could do anything to me.”

The dragon huffed, as though to disagree —  _ could it understand them? _ — and Hitoshi echoed it. Izuku had to bite back a chuckle as his friend started glaring.

“It could have struck you with lightning  _ again,” _ Hitoshi replied grumpily.

“Come on,” Izuku said, ignoring him and making his tone cajoling, “why don’t you give it a try? It’ll be fine, I promise.”

Hitoshi’s eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms defensively. “Are you insane?”

Izuku could see he was tempted, though. Hitoshi’s eyes kept flickering over to the dragon, who was now staring back at them attentively. Izuku just stayed silent, watching as his friend warred with himself before heaving a sigh.

“Fine,” Hitoshi said tiredly. “But if the dragon kills me, I’m coming back to haunt you as a ghost.”

“It’s not going to kill you,” Izuku retorted. “It didn’t kill me, did it?”

Hitoshi didn’t dignify that with an answer, but he moved closer to the dragon — very, very slowly. One would believe Izuku had just sent him to his doom.

But just as Izuku had thought, when Hitoshi put his hand against the dragon’s flank, nothing happened. The dragon just breathed, eyeing them with a mix of curiosity and wariness, but he didn’t even try to hurt them.

Hitoshi’s eyes were blown wide as he stared at his hand. “I can feel him  _ breathe,”  _ he said, astonished. “It’s… It’s…”

Izuku laughed, hurrying over. “Fantastic?” he suggested, grinning widely. “I know, right?”

Hitoshi’s eyes flicked to his face before returning to the dragon. He caressed the skin a little before drawing back regretfully. “We really can’t kill it, can we?”

Izuku felt so light his knees went weak. “No, we can’t.” He shook his head.

Hitoshi sighed. “I should have known,” he mumbled. He bent down, picking up the knife Izuku had lost earlier — absently, Izuku wondered what had happened to Hitoshi’s knife, and how likely it was that he’d be able to bring it back to his mother.

The instant he picked up the knife though, the dragon, which had been compliant until then, started trashing in his binds.

Izuku fell back, scraping his hands on the ground before forcing himself to stand back up and to help his friend, who was trying to both hold onto a trashing dragon  _ and _ cut the thick ropes that bound him.

“Here, let me help you,” Izuku said, trying to at least pin down the dragon’s head.

Hitoshi grunted out a ‘thanks’ before resuming his work.

The ‘snap’ of the first rope echoed in the clearing, and the dragon’s ears perked up. His eyes looked panicked as he watched the knife, and Izuku’s heart went out to him (it?) but this was something they had to do.

A second rope snapped, then a third and a fourth, and by the time Hitoshi was halfway done with the fifth, the dragon was able to shake his wings and snap it off himself, before shrugging off the rest of the ropes.

Izuku, who had still been hanging onto his head, was shaken off and thrown onto the ground unceremoniously.

 

* * *

 

Hitoshi didn’t know why he was sawing the dragon’s bindings so fervently. It felt almost like he was possessed, driven by an energy not his own, and he couldn’t stop. Izuku had been right — killing this dragon was wrong, and they couldn’t do it.

Maybe if they’d been fighting it, like the battle that had happened last night. Maybe if that was how it’d happened, then Hitoshi could have done it.

But like this? With the dragon defeated at their feet? It was too hard, and it felt wrong. There had been none of the mindless rage and fury his father had described countless times, none of the blood thirst — just a plea to live.

And Hitoshi had been unable to do it — just as Izuku had been before him.

Still, when his friend had told him to  _ touch _ the dragon, Hitoshi had thought Izuku had gone mad. Except that Hitoshi  _ had _ touched the dragon — fully expecting to get himself zapped by that weird green lightning, no matter what Izuku said — nothing had happened.

Or rather, Hitoshi had felt his skin beneath his hand and realized how  _ alive  _ that dragon had felt, its heartbeat slow and steady under his palm.

He’d had to set the dragon free after that. He’d just had to.

Of course, it was easier said than done when the dragon kept fighting him and no amount of “I’m not trying to hurt you”s seemed to help calm him down.

And then the dragon was finally free, and he sent Hitoshi and Izuku down to the ground before roaring in their face.

It was the second time in less than a day that Hitoshi thought they were going to die, and he didn’t like it. The fear left a sour taste on his tongue, and he hated how long it took his heart to stop racing.

They were nearly blown back — and did get a mouthful of dirt they had to spit out — when the dragon started to beat his wings to take off.

It was phenomenal to watch, really, but they weren’t stupid enough to stay and watch.

The dragon had spared them so far, but there was no guarantee that he would do it again if they stuck around.

They ran back through the woods, all the way to the train station — which was when they realized it was later than they’d thought, as the sun was going down.

Hitoshi felt himself blanch, and looking at his friend, Izuku didn’t look much better.

They waited for the train to come nervously. There were several occasions where Hitoshi opened his mouth, wanting to discuss what had just happened… but then he saw that they weren’t alone, and he remembered that mentioning they had left a Night Fury in the woods probably wasn’t a good idea.

They rode the train in silence, in the end, and Hitoshi couldn’t help but wonder if Izuku was feeling as unbalanced as he did.

This was… This was something else. Hitoshi could barely focus on the knowledge that his father was probably going to kill him for going out today after classes because his mind was abuzz with what had just happened to them both.

Not just that impossible lightning — and god, but that had been almost as frightening as the dragon itself, seeing Izuku’s body lit up green and hearing him scream — but also the dragon itself.

He had been strangely… human, for a dragon. Not at all the violent beast Hitoshi had expected, not at all what he had been taught about, and it twisted his stomach to even think that it might have been all wrong.

Izuku’s stop came before Hitoshi’s, and his friend left with a promise to text with an update on their situation.

Hitoshi expected his father to be waiting for him when he got home. He didn’t really know why — lately, his father had been getting busier, having to leave earlier in the mornings and to get back later in the evenings. (Hitoshi wasn’t really supposed to know about it, but it had to do with the increasing frequency of dragon attacks.)

Part of Hitoshi had expected to find the man there though, waiting for him with a tired frown on his face, so far from the loud persona he projected when he was in public that it was painful.

A quick look on the phone he’d ignored until now let him know that his father wasn’t planning on getting home any time soon either, and that he probably wouldn’t be able to get home before dark for the foreseeable future.

“I’ll make it up to you,” his father’s voice said in the voicemail, and Hitoshi deleted the message without regret. He didn’t bother typing up a reply.

His father’s absence both was and wasn’t a relief, and Hitoshi hated how mixed up it made him feel. He scowled as he threw his bag on his bed — his homework could wait a bit longer — and spitefully, he ordered the most expensive thing he could find on the takeout menu.

(He did order enough for two, just in case his father was hungry when he got home.)

Hitoshi meant to put on a cat documentary on his computer while he idly started on his homework—his usual method when his father wasn’t there to tell him otherwise — but his eyes caught on something else, and he ended up clicking on a dragon documentary instead.

It was one he’d already seen, though not in a couple of years. In fact, Hitoshi was fairly sure he remembered watching that exact documentary with his father before.

Hitoshi watched with growing unease as ‘experts’ and heroes were interviewed about the various species of dragons the documentary was mentioning — right, Hitoshi remembered now. Its subject had been a resurgence of previously ‘unseen’ dragon species in the wake of All Might’s disappearance, and the possible connection between the two. It had been quite the talk when it had first come out, though Hitoshi was fairly certain most people now thought it to be pure coincidence.

Needless to say that he didn’t start on his homework until he’d finished watching the thing, and he only paused it long enough to go to the door to get his delivery.

Hitoshi also ended up rushing through his homework. It was far from his best work — hopefully, though, it wouldn’t matter and nobody would ask any questions about it. Hitoshi wasn’t sure how he’d be able to explain his inattention when the truth of it was ‘I think our society is wrong about dragons’.

His phone finally chimed just as he was getting ready for bed, his homework put away—the events of the day had been surprisingly exhausting, so even though Hitoshi’s mind kept rehashing them, he had hoped he’d actually be able to fall asleep sometime soon for once.

It was from Izuku.

**[22:29] Izuku:** Well guess who’s grounded?

Hitoshi huffed out a laugh as he typed his answer.

**[22:30] Hitoshi:** Congratulations. How long?

**[22:30] Hitoshi:** Also,  guess who is not grounded?

Hitoshi smirked at the three little dots appearing on his screen. He could practically feel Izuku’s frustration.

**[22:32] Izuku:** Ugh 2 weeks :(

**[22:32] Izuku:** And how?? Your father is stricter than my mother, I thought for sure after last night he’d ground you.

Hitoshi snorted bitterly.

**[22:33] Hitoshi:** Maybe if he was around to do it.

**[22:33] Izuku:** Oh. I’m sorry.

**[22:34] Hitoshi:** It’s fine. Stop apologizing for everything.

**[22:34] Izuku:** Sorry :p

Hitoshi rolled his eyes fondly, but it seemed to be all that Izuku had to say. Hitoshi sent him a quick ‘Good night’, and put his phone away when his friend answered with the same.

Apparently, though, he wasn’t the only one having trouble falling asleep that night, because his phone chimed again a good while later.

**[23:52] Izuku:** Hey… do you still want to be a hero?

**[23:53] Hitoshi:** Of course.

**[23:53] Izuku:** Oh, good. Me too.

 

* * *

 

“So, what are you mopping about this time?” Nemuri asked, pulling Hizashi’s glass out of his hand and claiming it as her own. She sat down on his right and Tensei on his left. “Let me guess.” She laughed. “Hitoshi, or Hitoshi?”

“Do you even need to ask?” Tensei huffed, raising an amused eyebrow. He ordered for them, and moments later, Hizashi’s alcohol had been replaced with a glass of water.

(Hizashi knew better than to protest — Nemuri and Tensei had made it their mission to stop him from falling into alcoholism after Shouta, and though these days Hizashi wasn’t anywhere near as bad as he’d been back then, they still made the effort to limit him to a glass or two. 

Hizashi appreciated it more than he could express. He liked to think that he would have handled it even without their interference, for Hitoshi if not for himself, but this way he thankfully never had to find out.)

Hizashi wrapped his hands around his new glass, not looking at his friends, and sighed. “You’ve heard, haven’t you?”

Nemuri snorted. She shared a mischievous look with Tensei before looking back at Hizashi. “Do you mean about his little stunt last night?” She smirked. “Nope, I don’t know anything about that.”

Tensei muffled a chuckle into his drink as he shook his head. “Me neither.”

Hizashi didn’t feel like laughing. “He and Izuku thought they could take down a dragon.” He took a swig of his drink, wishing it could have been alcohol so he’d feel the burn.

“Lads after my own heart,” Nemuri joked, but her smile faltered quickly.

Hizashi shook his head, tightening his grip on his glass until his knuckles went white — it was the only way he knew to keep his hands from shaking.

“It was stupid,” he said, gritting his teeth. “God, they almost died, you know — if we hadn’t gotten there when we did…”

The word ‘dead’ wouldn’t cross his lips, but from his friends’ faces, they got the meaning anyway.

“You know,” Nemuri started, her tone far gentler than it usually would be, “it’s okay to be mad if they did a stupid, dangerous thing.”

“I’m not mad.”

“Yes, you are.” Hizashi could hear the eye roll in Tensei’s voice. “Tenya isn’t my son, so I can’t say I know  _ exactly _ what you’re going through, but I know I’d be mad if he pulled some stunt like that. Mad and worried.”

“Which you are right now,” Nemuri added unnecessarily.

“So what should I do?” Hizashi heaved a trembling sigh, running a hand through his ponytail. “Punish him? I hurt him enough last night, I don’t think I can stand to do that.”

His friends winced. “He’ll forgive you,” Nemuri stated.

Hizashi swallowed. “I’m not so sure about that,” he said, sighing and dropping his head on the table, groaning. “I’m  _ terrible _ at this.”

“Hey.” Tensei shook his head. “Come on, your kid wants to be a hero — you’re doing  _ something  _ right. So he wasn’t the smartest about it…” His lips quirked up into an amused smirk. “You know kids do stupid, dangerous things all the time. The most important thing is that he’s safe now.”

Hizashi sighed again. “I just don’t know what to do. He’s too much like his father.”

They all knew Hizashi wasn’t talking about himself, and Tensei patted him on the arm.

“Would that really be such a bad thing? Nemuri asked, her eyes kind but steady.

“You know it’s not.” Hizashi shook his head. “But it does mean I really have no idea what I’m doing — nobody could ever get Shouta to do anything he didn’t want to.”

Of all the ways Hitoshi could have been like Shouta, of course, their son had to pick that one. Of course. 

Hizashi didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud until his friends laughed at him. “You know,” Nemuri said, “I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

Hizashi just glared back until they stopped laughing.

“It’s not funny.”

Nemuri raised her hands defensively. “Hey, you know I’ve always found you wanting to keep him from becoming a hero a stupid idea. Kid clearly wants to be one, and who at his age didn’t go dragon hunting with his friends? So he took it a bit further than most do… He still got out okay,” she said, shrugging.

“I’m trying to keep him  _ safe,” _ Hizashi spat out. “That’s not stupid.”

Nemuri sighed. “Look, that was a grand idea when he was four and trying to follow you when you went working, but he’s not four anymore. Almost all the adults he knows are heroes themselves, and he grew up hearing all about how amazing heroes are. All kids do these days. Is it really any wonder he wants to become one himself?”

“But his quirk—“

Nemuri’s glare turned icy. “I know you’re not that stupid, Yamada,” she said, and Hizashi winced. “When did Shouta’s quirk ever help him fight dragons?”

“It was different back then,” Hizashi protested, but it was weak, and he could tell.

They all could. “There weren’t nearly as many dragon attacks.”

“Yeah,” Tensei replied with a drawl. “Because  _ that _ made everything safer.”

“I just want him to be  _ safe,” _ Hizashi said, the words raw in his throat. “I can’t lose him too.”

“I know,” Nemuri replied kindly. “He’s your son. But Hizashi, what do we always tell parents when they come to us, worrying about their kids’ safety?”

Hizashi bit his cheek. “That we’ll do our best to protect them while they learn,” he replied. He’d said and heard those words so often they might as well be engraved in his mind.

“But we also make sure they know the risks,” Nemuri finished. Her eyes softened. “I know you want to protect him — I know  _ why _ you want to protect him — but you can’t do that forever. You can’t hide him in a cocoon all this life.”

“I can try,” Hizashi replied mulishly, causing Tensei to burst into laughter, choking on his drink.

Nemuri rolled her eyes at them. “You know he’ll only grow to hate you if you do that,” she replied. “You just said he’s like Shouta — you know how well he handled being coddled.”

Hizashi’s lips quirked into a fond grin as he recalled just that. “Yeah.” He sighed. “So what should I do?”

Tensei was the one to speak up. “Give him something to do.”

Hizashi’s heart rose up in his throat. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like this, and not for the first time that evening, he wished his glass contained something stronger than water.

“Like what?” he asked.

Tensei and Nemuri exchanged a look.

“Train with him,” Nemuri suggested. “I know, I know,” she hastened to add before Hizashi could protest. “You’re busy. But come on, you can’t tell me you couldn’t find a couple of hours to spend with your son.”

She stared at him pointedly and Hizashi’s mouth closed with a click.

“Just give him a chance,” she continued. “See for yourself if he  _ really  _ doesn’t have what it takes to be a hero.”

Hizashi swallowed. “What if he doesn’t?”

“What if he does?” she countered. “Besides, at the very least you’ll be able to keep him busy that way.”

Hizashi had been right — he didn’t like this. And yet, with Tensei and Nemuri in clear agreement against him, and his mind whispering that this was actually a good plan, Hizashi could only relent.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll ask him.”

His friends cheered, and Tensei slapped him on the back.

“Good,” he said, ruthless. “Now stop moping and go home. Talk to your kid.”

Hizashi snorted. “Little late for that, I think,” he replied. He didn’t need to take a look at the clock to know that Hitoshi would be in bed by now, most likely asleep, even factoring in his son’s insomnia.

“Tomorrow, then,” Nemuri said, rolling her eyes. “Same difference.”

They were right, though — he should be getting back home. (Shouta would have murdered him for leaving their son alone so late to go to a bar.)

He drank the last of his water quickly before bidding his friends goodbye and paying his check. It was late enough that walking would get him back home faster than taking a train, so he did, taking the opportunity to clear his mind and think back on his conversation with Tensei and Nemuri.

Much as he hated to admit it, they’d been right. It had been foolish of him to think he could… curb Hitoshi’s wishes like this. Of course, his son would have acted out like that. His lips quirked up into an amused smile. Their attempt had been inspired — Hizashi had no doubt that machine had been made by Midoriya — and who knew, maybe it could have worked if they had been safer and smarter about it.

Hitoshi was asleep when Hizashi finally stumbled back through the door. He hadn’t expected his son to be awake, but there was still something oddly bittersweet about how silent and dark the apartment was, how it still smelled like food even though said food had long grown cold.

Hizashi packed it away in the fridge with a fond huff — he had already eaten — before wandering to Hitoshi’s bedroom. The door opened without a noise, revealing his son half-hanging off his bed, covers kicked away. It brought back memories to simpler times, and Hizashi tucked Hitoshi back in, gently moving him to the center of his bed before patting his hair once.

Hitoshi didn’t stir, and Hizashi left the room.

“Okay,” he said out loud to his friends’ voices, still echoing in his head, “I’ll train him.”

 

* * *

 

Izuku woke up early. It was a surprise, considering how late he’d fallen asleep last night and how early he already needed to be up at, and yet here he was, awake before his alarm could even ring and not even tired.

It was weird, but everything about the past couple of days could have been described as weird, so Izuku decided not to pay it too much attention.

Since he was already up, he figured he might as well get an early start to his day — and no, it wasn’t just because he wanted his mother to lift his punishment early.

He did his best to make as little sound as possible as he walked up to the bathroom.

His mother was probably already up and in the kitchen, but in case she wasn’t, Izuku didn’t want to be the one to wake her up.

He was quick, musing about dragons under the shower — well, one dragon in particular, anyway. He hated to think that he’d be stuck home for the next two weeks, only able to talk to Hitoshi through his phone (which his mother had mercifully agreed to let him keep even though he was grounded), but it beat the lifelong punishment she had threatened him with if she caught him going dragon hunting with Hitoshi again.

(She had been beside herself with worry when Izuku had finally gotten back home last night, and she had looked terrified the night before that, and it made Izuku’s stomach churn with guilt. The last thing he wanted was to hurt his mother.)

He was so caught up in his thoughts though, that he slipped while leaving the shower.

Now, that was unfortunately nothing unusual. Izuku wasn’t clumsy by nature, but he often got so caught up in his own mind that he missed a step or someone, and he had gotten more than his fair share of bruises for it.

So Izuku was used to this happenstance enough that he instinctively reached for the sink.

He wasn’t expecting, however, for the sudden rush of  _ something _ in his chest, nor for the sink to snap loudly under his hand, the porcelain crumbling under his fingers. He yelped this time, as without purchase to catch himself on, he fell. That rush vanished.

Izuku looked up at the sink, dazed. Luckily, he didn’t seem to have hit broken of the plumbing, just the sink itself, so it wasn’t as much of a disaster as it could have been. Hesitantly, he reached up to touch the sink, but nothing happened.

It just felt like porcelain still, and pressing on it with his finger just led to a sore finger.

It was when he tried to stand, though, and put his weight on his other hand, that he realized how much his wrist actually hurt.

Izuku hissed and cradled it to his chest, taking a deep breath as it suddenly seemed to pulsate with white-hot pain. He had to psych himself to look at it — if it had hit the sink hard enough to break it, then it was no wonder he was in so much pain.

But his wrist wasn’t horrifyingly broken, like Izuku had expected. The skin was a little red, yes, and it certainly hurt, but it didn’t look broken.

Belatedly, it occurred to him that he probably would have heard that happen, even with the cacophony him breaking the sink had caused.

He poked it gingerly and had to bite back a pained moan. His eyes stung.

_ Bad idea, _ he berated himself,  _ bad idea. Let’s not do that again. _

He helped himself with his other hand to stand up, awkwardly trying to keep his towel on with just his elbows, and carefully side-stepped the mess he’d just made.

Dressing up without jostling his wrist to much was certainly a pain and a half — certainly, his eyes were burning with tears by the time he was done, and he was pretty sure he’d bitten his cheeks had enough to taste blood.

He managed though, and he left the bathroom to go find his mother —  _ so much for trying to make her worry less today, _ he thought with a sigh.

His mother gaped when she saw him still cradling his wrist to his chest as he entered the living-room. “Oh my goodness, are you alright? What happened?” she asked, hurrying over and abandoning the food she’d been putting away — his lunch, probably, and Izuku’s heart clenched with guilt.

“I’m fine. Well, my wrist hurts a littler.”

“That doesn’t look fine,” she replied, frowning as she stared at his wrist.

“Let me take a look at it.”

He offered his wrist for his mother to look at.  “Also… I think I kinda broke

the sink?” he added sheepishly. He had to hiss in pain when she lifted it up a little too suddenly in her shock.

“You what?” She let go of his wrist, blanching as she realized she’d hurt him. “Oh god, Izuku, I’m sorry.”

Izuku waved his other hand, shaking his head as he smiled. “It’s fine, mum. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Of course not!” She huffed, before taking a more gentle hold on his wrist. She felt it up with quick, practiced gestures, humming to herself all the while before finally grinning up at him. “Well, good news is, I don’t think it’s broken. It feels like a pretty nasty sprain, though. Hold still — I’ll get you some ice, and when the swelling goes down a little I’ll wrap it for you.”

Izuku nodded, and waited awkwardly for his mother to return. It didn’t take her long, and that ice did instantly make him feel better.

“Now,” his mother asked, her eyes narrowing sharply, “what did you mean when you said you broke the sink?”

Izuku chuckled nervously and waved his unarmed hand. “I slipped while getting out of the shower, but when I tried to catch myself… It broke?”

She gaped at him, and Izuku chuckled again. He guided her back toward the bathroom, and stood behind her as she took in the disaster.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened,” Izuku said, biting his lip. He had to admit, the bathroom looked much worse now that he had thought it did.

“Izuku, sweetie… It’s fine,” his mother said, cradling his cheeks in her hands. “I’m just glad you didn’t get hurt  _ worse. _ Can you imagine..?” She huffed angrily. “Oh, I’m going to be having  _ words _ with whoever installed this… You could have been seriously hurt, what were they even thinking?”

“Mum.”

Izuku swallowed hard as his mother trailed off and looked at him.

“Yes, Izuku?”

“I don’t…” He licked his lips, trying not to focus on the way melting water dripped down his fingers. “I don’t think it was the sink that was the problem. I think… I think  _ I _ did this.”

His mother frowned. “What do you mean?”

Izuku looked up at her — god, why was saying this so  _ hard? _

“I was falling,” he said, casting back his mind and trying to recall the feeling. “I was falling, and I felt  _ something _ — and then the sink just…  _ broke  _ under my hand. It just snapped.”

“Izuku…”

“What?” Izuku asked.

“Look down,” she replied, her voice shaking.

When Izuku did, he saw what had his mother sounding so surprised. It was the lightning — that green lightning that had hit him when he’d touched that dragon. Only this time, it seemed to be coming from underneath his skin.

Izuku blinked, and he lightning vanished.

“Did you… Did you see that?” Izuku asked, his breath caught in his throat.

His mother laughed. “I did! Izuku…” Her eyes shone with joy as she spoke the words he’d been longing to hear since he’d turned four and a visit to the doctor had dashed his dreams. “I think you have a quirk.”


	4. Chapter 3: Discoveries

Inko ended up calling the school to tell them Izuku wouldn’t make it today. Her next phone call was to the hospital where she worked, where she called in a family emergency and finagled herself a day off.

“This isn’t a reward,” she told Izuku sternly, even though they had just spent the last hour celebrating this miraculous quirk of his. “You’re staying home because you’re hurt, and because of how violently your quirk manifested.”

She was unable to keep her lips from quirking up into a smile though, and she huffed out a laugh. “And also because I need to clean up the bathroom and do something about that sink.”

“I can—“

“No. You, young man, are going to sit down and rest. Nothing else. I won’t have you making that wrist worse.”

Izuku surrendered to her fretting willingly enough, and he went to sit on the living-room sofa. Inko had almost expected him to go back to his room instead, and he did, but only to grab his school bag.

Well, she supposed at least his homework would keep him out of trouble while she took care of the mess in the bathroom.

Because a mess it was.

Well, no, Inko reasoned as she eyed the snapped sink. It could have been much worse. Izuku had only twisted his wrist — and honestly, it was a wonder this hadn’t happened earlier, because even though her son tried to hide it from her, she knew this was hardly the first time he’d slipped in the shower — and it would be fine in a couple of weeks at most.

_ Just in time for his grounding to end, _ she thought wryly, and then she set to work.

Clearing up the rubble took her less time than she’d expected. Apparently, Izuku’s quirk — some kind of strength augmentation? Though why it manifested with green lightning was a mystery — had lead to a much cleaner break than it seemed at first glance. There was one large piece that she’d had to pick up and carry out, but everything else she could pull at with her quirk instead.

The break was clean enough that she even wondered if maybe they’d be able to just… glue it back together. In the end, though, Inko shook her head and decided they’d be better off getting a new sink. It was an unplanned expense, but she was sure they could manage, and she’d feel better at having a new sink over one that might end up falling apart again.

Especially since there was a section of it that was clearly beyond salvation — it was where Izuku had grabbed it, surely, and Inko smiled a little when she saw the finger-shaped holes in the porcelain.

She wasn’t sure what Izuku’s quirk was, or how it had even developed. The doctors had assured her that her son was quirkless — she had shown her son’s x-rays to so many specialists she couldn’t even count them all, but each one of them had told her the same thing: Izuku had the extra toe joint, and that meant he’d never develop a quirk.

And yet, here her son was, presenting something that could only be a quirk, though far later than anything she’d ever seen.

Inko was happy for him, really — ecstatic, even, because this couldn’t have happened to a better boy — but she was also worried.

Now, she knew that it was actually pretty common for kids to injure themselves during the first manifestation of their quirk. She had seen it often enough at work, after all — but it was different, somehow, now that it was her son.

It was different from that awful, awful worry she’d felt when Yamada had brought Izuku home two nights ago — that worry had died quickly upon seeing her son was safe. This worry, she could tell, wasn’t going to disappear that easily.

But at least, she could do something about this. Inko had never quite known how to deal with her son’s fascination for heroes and dragons, but odd quirk manifestation? That, she could handle.

First, though, she had to call someone to take care of that sink.

It was easy, though they had to take an early lunch so she could supervise as the man worked on replacing the sink. He was kind, and though he stared at the broken sink with surprise at first, he quickly caught onto what had happened.

He clearly found this funny — at least until he learned  _ exactly _ what had happened.

“You have no idea how often this has happened, actually,” he told her after Inko sheepishly explained that her son had accidentally broken it. “Sounds like he’ll have a good quirk for heroics, though, if he can deal this type of damage on accident. How old is he?”

“Fourteen,” Inko replied.

The man faltered. It was clear he didn’t know what to say — that he’d expected her son to be much younger. And why wouldn’t he? Most kids Izuku’s age were probably done with this type of accidental quirk activation.

“His quirk manifested late,” Inko explained, injecting cheer into her voice.

It didn’t fix the awkward atmosphere, and in the end, Inko was glad when the man left.

She wandered back into the living room, where Izuku had settled for the day, after that. Surprisingly, the TV was off, and he seemed to be trying to work around his bandaged wrist by attempting to write with his other hand. She winced in pity for the boy’s teachers, who’d have to decipher this handwriting.

“You know, that wasn’t quite what I meant by ‘rest’,” Inko said after a moment, amused as she stared at her son, who sheepishly stared up from his homework.

“There are only so many reruns of hero fights I can watch before I know them by heart,” Izuku replied, chuckling nervously.

Inko felt her face soften, even though her heart panged with worry. She sat down next to him.

“Are you alright?” she asked. “You normally can’t get enough of those reruns,” she said, because usually, that was true. Izuku watched hero fights obsessively, analyzing them over and over again. He had his favorites, of course, which he watched more than others — All Might’s debut, for one — but her son loved  _ all _ heroes.

She had never heard him say complain about knowing those fights by heart before.

Izuku chuckled again, running a hand through his hair. “I’m fine, really.” He waved his bandaged hand. “I mean, aside from the obvious.”

Inko huffed out a laugh. “I’m glad.”

Izuku nodded, and Inko floundered a little, unsure of what else to say. She settled for the obvious.

“So… A quirk, huh?”

An excited grin bloomed on Izuku’s face almost instantly. “Yeah.” He stared down at his hands, looking almost like he had when he’d summoned that odd lightning for her.

“What does it feel like?” she asked curiously.

“I—“ Izuku frowned, his mouth falling shut with a click. Clearly, despite his eagerness to answer, he hadn’t actually thought about it, and Inko bit back a chuckle.

“It’s kind of hard to put into words,” Izuku finally said, picking at his bandage. “I guess it felt like… energy? Like a rush of, of power?” His frown deepened. “It was kind of overwhelming, actually.”

Inko pulled him into a hug. Izuku flinched a little at first, though she couldn’t say why, but he eventually relaxed into her arms and hugged her back.

“We’ll make this work, okay?” she said, pulling back and ruffling his hair. “Maybe we can get you some counseling for your quirk, and some training. And then you can be a hero, just like you always wanted.”

Izuku’s eyes watered, and Inko had to blink back some tears of her own.

“You really think so?” he asked, sniffling.

“Of course,” she replied, smiling. As she did so, however, her eyes wandered to the clock under the TV screen, and she blinked as she saw the time.

“Oh dear,” she said, blanching.

Izuku startled. “What is it?”

“Oh no, it’s nothing, don’t you worry about me,” Inko replied, waving off his concern with a chuckle. “I just didn’t see the time, that’s all. I should start preparing dinner.”

“Oh.” Izuku’s cheeks flushed pink. “Do you need any help?”

Inko laughed. “Thanks, sweetheart, but you’re hurt. You really should keep off your wrist for at least a few more days.”

“I still have one good arm, you know,” her son replied, a determined set in his jaw. “I can help.”

Inko looked back at him thoughtfully. She knew that expression on her son’s face, and she knew it meant she’d have little hope in dissuading him. She sighed, relenting.

“Are you sure you don’t want to watch another video?”

Izuku’s eyes flicked to the TV, but after a beat, he shook his head. “No, thanks. I’d rather help you,” he said with a slight smile.

Inko bit her lip. It wasn’t that she thought her son was lying to her, per se, but she couldn’t help but think that something wasn’t quite right.

“Alright,” she finally said. “You can help.”

At least like this, she figured, she could keep an eye on him — and hopefully, figure out what her son was trying to hide from her.

Even though, as expected, Izuku didn’t end up being much help in the kitchen, Inko was still glad for the company. It made time pass by much faster than it did when she was alone, and she could tell that Izuku was enjoying himself too, because by the time they were actually eating what she’d made, Izuku was much more relaxed, most of the stiffness she’d noticed him carrying since that morning had gone.

She still sent him to bed early — he would be going to school tomorrow, after all, and he was still punished — before starting to do the dishes, humming to herself quietly.

The ringing of her phone breaking through the silence startled her so badly that she almost broke a plate, only barely managing to catch it in time with her quirk.

It was Mitsuki.

“My brat told me little Izuku wasn’t there at school today?”

Inko blinked, then smiled at the gruff worry apparent in her friend’s voice. “Hello to you too, Mitsuki,” she said. “How was your day?”

“Ugh, hi, Inko. It was fine — can we get back to business now?”

Inko bit back a chuckle at her friend’s clear exasperation — Mitsuki was always so easy to rile up, it was very hard to resist — as she shut down the water. She could finish cleaning later.

“It’s nice of you to worry, Mitsuki, but Izuku is fine. He just…” Inko hesitated. It was stupid, and she didn’t even know why she did it — Mitsuki was her friend — but she did. “He hurt his wrist this morning, and I thought it’d be best if he stayed home for the day.”

Inko chuckled nervously, and made no mention of the broken sink, nor of Izuku’s quirk. It felt… wrong of her, somehow, to try to mention it.

“Oh,” Mitsuki replied, snapping her out of her thoughts. “Well, then I hope he’ll heal up soon!”

“It shouldn’t take more than a couple of weeks,” Inko agreed. “He just twisted it, it’s really not anything too bad.”

Mitsuki expressed her relief, and then she and Inko chatted for a little while longer before Mitsuki’s husband called her away.

“Till next time, Inko!” she shouted, and she hung up before Inko could tell her the same.

Inko stared down at her phone, smiling and shaking her head fondly, before she went back to her dirty dishes.

 

* * *

 

Hitoshi wasn’t really sure what led him back into that forest. Boredom, maybe? It wasn’t like he had much to do with Izuku grounded, and apart from visiting cat cafés — always an option — most of his options revolved around homework he’d rather be putting off for a little while longer.

Or perhaps it was curiosity, that vague sense of wonder, of ‘what if’ that had led him to the same train he and Izuku had taken yesterday and then down to a somewhat familiar wooded path.

He didn’t know what he’d expected to find. Proof, perhaps, that the past day hadn’t been a complete figment of his imagination, that he and Izuku had really brought down a dragon and then let it go.

He found his proof quickly enough. Broken branches and upturned earth showed quite clearly that  _ something _ had happened there.

Hitoshi’s heart rose up in his throat as he crept up forward slowly. It was as though the forest had suddenly fallen silent — or perhaps the sound of his heartbeat in his ears just covered everything else.

He froze in place just a few feet away from the clearing. There was somebody there — no, not somebody.

Hitoshi recognized those smooth dark scales almost instantly, even though he only got a glimpse of them through the dense foliage. Before his stunned eyes, the dragon started to beat his wings, his body lifting up slowly.

It was an awe-inspiring sight, and probably something few had ever really gotten the chance to see, but as Hitoshi stood there, frozen, it became quickly apparent that there was something wrong.

The dragon couldn’t fly the way he was meant to. He couldn’t rise above the treetops, and when he tried, and crashed back down into the clearing.

Hitoshi could only stare, his heart pounding in his chest. Had they done this? They must have, he thought, as the dragon hadn’t seemed to show any such problems two nights ago.

The dragon crashed again, the sound loud and deafening, and Hitoshi took an automatic step back. How had he not heard those crashes before? Had he really been that self-absorbed?

He didn’t get much time to consider those thoughts, however, as a second step back had him step on a broken branch.

The dry wood snapped with a loud  _ crack, _ and Hitoshi’s blood froze in his veins as the dragon’s attention snapped to him.

Weakly, he waved. “Hi… I’m Hitoshi. Remember me from yesterday?” He didn’t mention that he was also technically responsible for shooting him out of the sky, or that they’d been planning to kill him yesterday, but it seemed the dragon remembered anyway.

He started growling, and Hitoshi’s hands started shaking as he slowly stepped into the clearing, casting back longing glances toward the forest path he’d just taken.

He should have known this was a bad idea. He should have known that them escaping with their lives yesterday didn’t mean they were safe — this was a  _ dragon, _ for god’s sake — and he shouldn’t have gone back into this forest.

Especially not alone — god, now he was going to die, and nobody would ever even know what had happened to him.

Except… he wasn’t being eaten, or burned alive. Actually, he wasn’t being subjected to anything even remotely related to a type of attack. All the dragon was doing was growling at him threateningly as he marched into the clearing.

“I’m not armed,” Hitoshi said, raising his empty hands in front of him.

The dragon’s eyes narrowed, but at least the growling eased, then stopped the longer Hitoshi kept his hands up.

Tentatively, Hitoshi tried to lower them, but the dragon instantly started to growl again. The same happened when he tried to take a step closer.

“Okay,” he muttered out loud. “Okay, I get it. I think?”

The dragon, obviously, didn’t’ answer, and Hitoshi bit his tongue. “Right, of course you’re not saying anything, you’re a dragon.”

He sighed, letting out a tired laugh as he ran a hand through his hair — raising it back up immediately so the dragon wouldn’t start growling again.

“And I’m talking to a dragon now. That’s just great.”

It was almost kind of fun, though, to test out the dragon’s responses to his actions. It reminded Hitoshi a little bit of some of the grumpier cats he’d met, and the thought made him smile.

… Come to think of it, the dragon kind of reminded him of a cat in general.

It was hard for Hitoshi to feel as afraid as he’d used to after that revelation, and curiosity slowly replaced his fear instead.

“I wonder…” he said out loud, before biting his lips.

Hitoshi shook his head. No, it was probably a stupid idea — more than that, a  _ dangerous _ idea.

But now that he’d thought it, Hitoshi couldn’t help but want to do it.

See, Hitoshi loved cats, and most of the time, cats loved him back. Well, in as much as cats knew how to express their love anyway — which was part of why Hitoshi liked them so much. Cats were cool.

Once in a while, though, he’d meet a cat that just… wouldn’t take to him the way others did. Sometimes, they were wild alley cats, others just more standoffish cats, but always, Hitoshi liked to spend some time getting to know them, getting them to at least tolerate him.

So now he was wondering if he couldn’t do the same for that dragon.

It’d take some time, he knew — and that was if it even worked in the first place. But Hitoshi wanted to try.

He’d been so lost in his thoughts that he’d momentarily forgotten about where he was, only to be brutally reminded when he accidentally stepped forward.

The dragon let out a loud growl, and Hitoshi’s heart jumped in his chest. He almost fell backward in his hurry to get away, and he got the distinct impression that the dragon might have been laughing at him.

Hitoshi scowled. He thankfully seemed to be at a large enough distance that he didn’t need to keep his hands constantly raised anymore, but he kept his eyes trained on the dragon as he slowly backed away.

“I’m leaving now,” he said in a low voice.

The dragon watched him leave with narrowed eyes, but he didn’t make any move to attack.

Hitoshi didn’t leave though. Not really. He backed away enough that the dragon couldn’t see him anymore, and dove back behind a tree to calm his racing heart. The bark felt rough against his back, and his legs were going weak with relief, but he didn’t leave.

He kept his ears open, listening as hard as he could, but the dragon didn’t try to come after him. Hitoshi though he heard it try to fly away again, and his heart twisted painfully in his chest.

He waited for a bit, and then crept back toward the clearing. This time, however, he took care not to step on any dry wood or do anything that might give his presence away.

It was a little nerve-wracking, but eventually, Hitoshi managed to get to a place where he could spy on the clearing without actually being  _ in _ the clearing.

He breathed in crisp forest air, and sat down. He winced a little — the ground was a mix of dirt and stone that was not only quite uncomfortable, but would also undoubtedly stain his clothes. It was cold and slightly damp too, but it wasn’t the worst Hitoshi had ever sat on.

Something told him that trying to take a nap here would be a bad idea, so he reluctantly dug through his bag for his homework and a pen.

It became quickly apparent though that he was in no mood to work on math equations or English essays, as his eyes kept wandering back to the dragon below him.

Hitoshi didn’t think the creature had noticed him yet, and after only a few minutes spent attempting to work, he set aside his books and started doodling instead.

It started out as random bits of unidentifiable stuff, which was pretty much how Hitoshi’s doodles always began, and evolved into cat outlines.

And then his eyes wandered back to the dragon and he hummed, chewing on the back of his pencil.

Hitoshi had never really tried drawing a dragon before. Oh, he knew he had painted some before, as a child, the same as everyone else. Hitoshi actually knew for a fact that his father kept his son’s primary school drawings  _ somewhere, _ ready to embarrass him one day with how six-year-old Hitoshi had drawn himself standing on top of a red and black mass that was supposed to be a dragon.

Those didn’t really count though, as Hitoshi liked to believe he’d gotten better at drawing things since then.

Still, that didn’t make drawing an actual dragon — a Night Fury at that, Hitoshi still couldn’t quite believe it was real — any easier. Especially since the dragon kept moving around.

Hitoshi didn’t know how many pages of his notebook he sacrificed to the cause, but he knew it was a lot. He ended up engrossed in this work, sketching the dragon in a wide variety of position, and though not all of his drawings looked good — or even remotely accurate in the worst cases — they did get better as he practiced.

And it was probably only because he’d done so many sketches that he realized what was wrong with the dragon, why he couldn’t fly anymore.

It was a small thing, really, and Hitoshi certainly wouldn’t have noticed it if he hadn’t been looking so closely. Once he had noticed it, though… He couldn’t unsee it.

The dragon was missing a tail fin. It didn’t look like it hurt — there certainly didn’t seem to be any blood or actual wound somehow — but Hitoshi had taken one look at it and  _ known _ that it was the reason for the way the dragon was now grounded.

Just like he knew he and Izuku were to blame for it.

The thought made him feel guilty, and he didn’t like it, so he started thinking on possible ways to fix it. Prosthetics were a well-respected fields thanks to the number of dragon attacks, and it didn’t take Hitoshi long to start to wonder if maybe there wasn’t a way to… replace that missing tail fin.

It was a shame that Izuku wasn’t there, as his green-haired friend was infinitely better at this type of thing, but Hitoshi was sure he could handle at least the getting started part. This wouldn’t be done in a day, after all — possibly not even in  _ months _ .

And Hitoshi would need to gain the dragon’s trust first anyway, which would also take who knew how long.

Still, Hitoshi mused as he kept idly sketching, he liked to think that he was getting a good start on that — even if the dragon didn’t seem to be fully aware that Hitoshi was there, watching him.

It was only when Hitoshi realized how much dimmer the light was now than it had been when he’d first come here that he realized he’d stayed there for much longer than he’d meant to, and that he should probably get going.

He looked back into the clearing, toward the dragon which had apparently decided to curl up into a rare sunny spot.

_ Just like a cat, _ he thought, amused, as he stood up and dusted himself off.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he said. Hitoshi wasn’t sure if he was addressing the dragon or the clearing — or if he even was addressing anyone at all — and he left quickly after that.

He never saw the black head that perked up from the ground, following his departure with curious serpentine eyes.

 

* * *

 

Waking up the next day, Izuku couldn’t say he was really in the mood to go to school. He was going have to face his classmates, people who had spent the past  _ years _ looking down on him for his quirklessness, and tell them that he, what, had a quirk now? One he didn’t know a thing about?

And that was if it even was a quirk at all. He remembered that lightning coming off the dragon and striking him, after all, even though there had been no outward sign of it before.

His mother hadn’t been hurt when she’d touched his skin, but could Izuku really know if it was safe? He thought it was — some deep intuition within him telling him so — but he wasn’t willing to risk his mother’s safety on such a vague feeling.

Somehow, Izuku had never really considered that him ‘developing’ a quirk would almost feel worse than having no quirk at all.

Anyhow… Izuku couldn’t just stay at home forever. He’d already spent all of yesterday there, after all, and while his wrist was still sprained, that was hardly an injury bad enough that he couldn’t go to school.

So he got up and got ready for school. Unlike the previous day where he’d woken up early, today Izuku ended up having to rush so he wouldn’t be late — and he made sure  _ not _ to break anything this time.

In the end, school was both better and worse than he’d feared, as his injured wrist seemed to give him an odd measure of protection from his usual tormentors. It was as though nobody wanted to risk  _ actually _ harming him — even Kacchan kept his explosions away, though his repeated scowls told Izuku nothing had really changed there.

And of course, Kacchan cornered him at lunchtime, his scowl so dark Izuku couldn’t help but shrink back in on himself.

It was odd, he reflected, that Kacchan scared him more than an actual dragon.

Then again, Kacchan had actually hurt him before.

“Deku,” Kacchan said, “what the fuck happened to your wrist?”

“Aah, Kacchan, hi.” Izuku chuckled nervously, his eyes falling down to his food, and he started picking at his bandage. He mumbled something — honestly, even he wasn’t sure what he actually said — and Kacchan exploded. It sent the rest of Izuku’s food all over the table, but luckily he’d been mostly done anyway.

“Speak up when I’m talking to you, you piece of shit!!”

“I-I sli-slipped and hu-hurt my wrist,” Izuku finally stuttered out.

Kacchan only laughed, and his followers laughed with him.

“You slipped?” he repeated mockingly. “Wow, you really are even more fucking useless than I thought. And you think  _ you _ can become a hero like this?”

Izuku felt his cheeks flush red, but he didn’t answer.

Kacchan gave a disgusted scoff, but he left, taking his ‘friends’ with him.

Izuku cleared up the table silently after that, and took the opportunity to start doodling ideas for his hero costume in his notebook again. Knowing he had a possible quirk now made it so much more interesting, and there were so many  _ possibilities _ that Izuku’s heart had started racing with excitement at the mere thought of them.

Even the fact that it was harder than usual to put everything down, since he had to use his non-dominant hand, couldn’t bring his enthusiasm down — Izuku could always redraw everything better once he was healed, after all.

He was lucky he had thought to teach himself to use both hands years ago though — Izuku couldn’t imagine how hard school would have been if not for that skill. Yes, he was a little rustier than he’d thought, but it really was better than nothing.

Sadly, that encounter with Kacchan really was the only interesting thing — if it could even be called interesting — that happened to him at school.

The first thing Izuku did when school let out was to send Hitoshi a text. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t done it yet — he could feel guilt churning in his stomach over ignoring his friend yesterday, even though Hitoshi hadn’t texted him either. In his defense, he had been busy today so far, and yesterday he had been rather with this new possible quirk.

Still, those were only excuses, and he should have been better.

At the same time, though, Izuku didn’t feel like his situation was something he could explain over text — or even a phone call — and he didn’t really want to try. Hitoshi, he felt, deserved to be told in person.

Izuku ended up debating on what to type for longer than was probably strictly necessary, and he cringed a little as he sent the text.

**[16:05] Izuku:** I can’t wait for my punishment to end. I have a lot to tell you!!

After a beat, he sent a second message.

**[16:05] Izuku:** How are you anyway? Still no punishment?

Hitoshi didn’t reply, but that was hardly anything unusual coming from him. They went to different schools and had different schedules, and sometimes Hitoshi just… forgot his phone, or was too lazy to pick it up (even now, Izuku was never sure which option happened more often).

He heaved a disappointed sigh, and instead switched to hero forums.

Even though there wasn’t anything truly new, Izuku quickly lost himself into the familiar thrum of theories and ideas.

He was halfway through a surprisingly well-argued post on the current resurgence of dragon attacks — a post that made Izuku realize just how much common those attacks were now compared to what he remembered as a kid — when he finally reached home.

To his surprise, the door was unlocked. “Izuku pushed it open slowly. “Mum…?”

His mother’s head peeked out of the kitchen with a grin. “Oh hi, Izuku! Welcome home. How was your day?”

Before Izuku could do more than mumble a surprised, “Fine,” his mother walked up to him, toweling her hands.

“Don’t take your shoes off, Izuku, we’re going out!” she said, still grinning.

“… We are?” Izuku felt like he’d been caught into a whirlwind. He frowned, letting his book bag fall by the sofa in his confusion. “Mum, why are you home?”

“Why, not happy to see your poor mother?” She grinned as Izuku spluttered in embarrassment.

_ “Mum!” _

His mother just laughed, reaching out to ruffle his hair as she flung the towel over her shoulder. “I’m just joking, dear. But really, don’t take your shoes off, we’re leaving as soon as I’m done drying up the dishes.”

She went back into the kitchen and, stunned, Izuku followed. “What’s going on?” He tried not to worry and failed miserably, his mind racing with possible disaster scenarios.

His mother shook her head gently as she pulled a plate into her hands. “Nothing you need to worry about,” she said kindly. “I’ll explain on the way.”

“You know I’m going to worry now, though, right?” Izuku replied with a nervous chuckle.

His mother huffed out a laugh. “Fine,” she said, putting away her dish and grabbing a new one — from what Izuku could see, she only had a handful left, which thankfully meant he wouldn’t have to wait for very long.

“I spoke about your problem with some colleagues — don’t look at me like that, dear, I didn’t tell them it was for  _ you  _ — and they had a few suggestions about your quirk.”

Izuku couldn’t help it; he was intrigued. “What did they say?”

His mother just smiled back mysteriously as she dried the last glass. “Well, I didn’t really mention the part where your quirk manifested so late — though we did discuss possible reasons why a quirk would appear so much later than expected — but the consensus seemed to be that you would need to practice your quirk. A lot. Especially since you want to become a hero.”

“Oh.” Izuku had to admit that the idea that there might be an actual scientific explanation for this new quirk was both interesting and a relief, though he doubted it would be accurate, seeing as he wasn’t about to mention the ‘I got struck by dragon-generated lightning’ to anyone.

And even though the reminder that his dream is now that much more approachable is nice, Izuku also couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. He’d expected… more, perhaps? Something a little more concrete than a conclusion he’d already come to himself.

His mother seemed to read all this on his face, because her eyes softened. “Come on,” she said, “it’ll be fun. We can figure out your new quirk, and train you to be a hero! Isn’t that great?”

Izuku couldn’t help but grin back at that, excitement seeping into his veins as he followed his mother out the door. 

“So,” he asked, “how are we doing this?”

And then, because it honestly had just occurred to him, he said, “Wait, aren’t I supposed to be grounded still?”

His mother laughed at that, her eyes glinting with something dangerous that made Izuku shiver. “Trust me, what I have in mind definitely counts as you being grounded.”

But even that ominous warning wasn’t enough to cut through Izuku’s enthusiasm, not now that he had a  _ tangible _ way to deal with that odd quirk-like energy he’d gained.

Besides, this was still something his mother was planning. How bad could it really get?


	5. Chapter 4: With Friends Like These

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't my favorite chapter, but I felt like it was kind of necessary...  
> Don't be afraid to let me know what you think :)

As it turned out, his mum’s surprise left much to be desired, and she hadn’t been lying when she’d told Izuku this outing would still be part of his punishment.

“I thought you said this was a beach,” Izuku said, his eyes wide as he took in what could only be described as a garbage dump.

“It used to be,” Mum replied, sighing sadly. “But at some point, people just started using it as, well, this.” She gestured toward the piles and piles of discarded things.

Izuku frowned. “But why?”

His mother shrugged, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know why.” She pulled him into a one-armed hug, straightening her back. When she spoke again, Izuku could hear the smile in her voice. “But we’re going to fix it!”

“I — We? Fix it?” Izuku sputtered, choking on his own spit. “What?”

Mum laughed. “I told you I spoke with some of my colleagues about your quirk, and your accident.”

“You think I got hurt because of my quirk, don’t you?” Izuku replied, swallowing.

His mother stayed silent, pursing her lips, but that was all the answer Izuku needed.

He licked his lips, shuffling his feet in the sand. “Couldn’t it have been because of the fall, though?” he asked pleadingly.

His mother hesitated, before sighing. “Maybe,” she admitted. “Look, Izuku, I know you don’t want your quirk to be something that hurts you, but what if…” She bit her lips. “What if it came in late so that it wouldn’t hurt you  _ too _ much?”

“I…” Izuku’s mind raced. He had to admit that this theory was valid, especially considering that his mother — and her friends at work — hadn’t been working with all the information.

Why, if Izuku didn’t know for a fact that the Night Fury had something to do with this, he probably would have believed what his mother did too. His shoulders fell.

“So what do I do then?”

“I think — and the people I spoke to agreed — that you need to get stronger, so that your body can support your quirk properly.”

Izuku’s eyes went wide. “Ooh, that makes sense. If my quirk is what, a strength enhancement type? Then it would totally make sense for my body to need to be stronger too. It would only be able to enhance what is already there, so the stronger I already am, the stronger I can get… But there could maybe be some kind of backlash to using it too much, which might have been what happened in the bathroom yesterday?

“That doesn’t really explain the lightning though… Maybe some kind of exhaust fumes? Like energy being dispelled by the quirk as I use it? But then that doesn’t really make sense with a strength enhancement quirk… And why is it  _ green?” _

His mother’s laughed snapped him out of his mumbling, and his head snapped to her with a sheepish smile. He rubbed his neck with his unbandaged hand, chuckling nervously.

“Sorry, Mum, I think I got a little too excited.”

His mother laughed again. “It’s fine, Izuku. You know I love being reminded of how smart my little boy is,” she said, ruffling his hair.

_ “Mu-um!” _ Izuku whined, feeling his cheeks burn as he tried to flatten his hair back again.

“Sorry, sorry,” his mother replied, not looking sorry at all.

Izuku scowled. He could never be mad at his mother, though, so it didn’t last long.

In an effort to ignore his mother’s teasing smile, his eyes came back to the garbage-covered beach. “So… What are doing here?”

He had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn’t going to like whatever reason his mother had for bringing him here, and moments later, he was proven right when his mother cheerfully declared that they were “going to clean up this beach!”

Izuku just gaped at her. “We’re going to  _ what?” _

“Clean up,” his mother repeated, her tone quieter but no less cheerful. She laughed. “Oh come on, don’t make that face, you’re not going to start  _ today. _ In fact,” she added, her eyes sharpening dangerously, “you’re not going to step foot on this beach until that wrist of yours is healed, alright?”

His mother’s smile widened, bright and innocent, but Izuku gulped, nodding eagerly. “Of course not.”

“Good.”

A warm silence fell over them, but Izuku couldn’t help but shuffle nervously, digging his shoes into the sand and kicking it around. The air wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t particularly warm either, and there was a lot of wind. It brought back the smell of the ocean, but it was sadly mostly overshadowed by the sickly-sweet smell of decomposing… things, of rot.

It was as Izuku considered this that a thought suddenly occurred to him. “Wait, Mum, wouldn’t this count as vigilantism?”

The laws around vigilantism in their society were kind of vague, to be honest, so Izuku wasn’t sure. He  _ knew _ any quirk use outside of your own house was technically illegal unless you had a license, and he knew that heroic acts counted as vigilantism — though nobody ever seemed to be quite clear on what a ‘heroic act’ was apart from fighting off dragons.

Cleaning up the beach, however, might classify. Izuku wasn’t sure if it was a public or private space, and if there were… rules about this type of action, but there probably were, weren’t they?

He looked at his mother questioningly, and she sighed, shaking her head. “Don’t worry about that,” she said. “I’ve actually looked into it, and while cleaning up the beach could technically be classified as vigilantism… That’s only if one doesn’t have the proper permits.”

She winked as Izuku gaped. “You mean…?”

“Yup! It should get delivered just in time for your wrist to be healed too.”

Izuku felt his eyes start to prickle with tears, and he sniffled. “You didn’t have to do all that,” he said, swallowing past the sudden knot in his throat.

His mother smiled back at him, pulling him into another tight hug. “I know,” she replied. “But I wanted to. I want to help you become anything you want to become. Plus Ultra, right?”

Izuku hugged her back as tightly as he could, and if he started crying, well… He didn’t think anyone could blame him for getting a little emotional there.

Izuku was still sniffling when they parted, and he wiped his nose on his sleeve, wincing as that only made him want to sniffle  _ more. _

“... Do you really think I can do it?”

“Izuku, baby, look at me.”

Izuku raised his head slowly, looking into his mother’s eyes. She was smiling, but her eyes were shining with unshed tears.

“I think, Izuku, that you can be anything you want to be.”

They both dissolved back into tears at that. In the back of his mind, Izuku couldn’t help but be grateful that there was nobody around to see them, because they were probably quite a sight — mother and son, hugging and crying in front of a garbage dump.

“Thanks, Mum,” Izuku finally said, his tearful voice muffled against his mother’s shoulder.

His mother hummed back, rubbing his back. “You’re welcome.”

They stayed there for a good while longer, until finally, they decided to walk home.

“So,” his mother asked, “what do you think of my idea?”

Izuku couldn’t quite suppress a wince. The idea of having to clean up  _ all _ of that garbage, by hand no less, was far from appealing, after all.

And yet… He couldn’t deny that his mum had a point. He sighed, smiling a little wryly. “It’s a great idea, Mum. Thanks. I think it’ll work.”

She heaved a long sigh. “Well, that’s a relief.” Her eyes were soft as she looked at him. “I really don’t want to see you getting hurt like that again.”

Izuku nodded, trying to smile past the lump of guilt he could feel sitting in his stomach.

He almost opened his mouth to confess about everything — the dragon, the quirk that was his but not really his… — but ended up closing it again. Where would he even start? It wasn’t like this was easy to explain, after all.

No, it would be better to say nothing until he at least knew more. His mother would only worry, and Izuku didn’t want that. She worried about him enough as it was.

So he just nodded, and they walked back exchanging ideas about a possible schedule for this new physical training of his.

Izuku eventually forgot about his earlier guilt, mind taken over by the excitement of learning to use his quirk as he discussed it with his mother.

He only remembered it much later, when he finally thought to check his phone before bed.

Hitoshi had answered him while he’d been out with his mum. He hadn’t said much, just a couple of texts, really, in answer to Izuku’s earlier  _ I can’t wait to be free of this punishment _ message.

**[19:07] Hitoshi: I can’t wait for you to be ungrounded either**

**[19:07] Hitoshi: … Also**

**I have a few things to share with you too**

Izuku stared at the texts, unblinking, for a few moments, before he let himself fall headfirst onto his bed, phone still clenched in his hand. He muffled a scream into his pillow, before springing back up and typing his answer.

**[21:27] Izuku: Hitoshi!!! You can’t just** **_say_ ** **that!!**

**Now I need to know!**

**What happened?!**

His friend’s answer was quasi-instantaneous, and Izuku could almost feel the smirk on Hitoshi’s face in his words.

**[21:27] Hitoshi: Haha tough luck**

**I wish I could tell you**

**I think it’d be better if I told you face to face though**

**So you’ll have to wait until your imprisonment ends**

**[21:28] Izuku: :(**

**You are a terrible friend and I hate you**

**[21:28] Hitoshi: Sure you do**

**[21:31] Hitoshi: Anyway**

**Anything interesting happen to you today?**

Izuku was halfway through composing a text about his mother’s weird determination in seeing him clear up old Dagobah beach when he remembered that he hadn’t told Hitoshi about his ‘quirk’ yet, and that without that, Izuku had no real way to explain  _ why _ his mum had suddenly gone into a cleaning spree.

**[21:35] Izuku: I…**

**Kinda yeah, but it’s definitely part of the thing I want to talk to you about :/**

**[21:36] Hitoshi: *sigh***

**You are definitely going to be the death of me one day**

**[21:36] Izuku: Aw, don’t be like that, I’m sure you’ll be just fine**

**[21:37] Hitoshi:** **_death_ **

Izuku laughed.

**[21:38] Izuku: Whatever you say**

**Anyway, what about your day?**

This time, Hitoshi took so long to answer that Izuku was starting to doze off by the time his phone chimed again.

**[22:23] Hitoshi: whoops, sorry, dinner called**

**and funny story**

**that’s definitely part of the things I wanted to talk to you about**

**[22:23] Izuku: Right…**

**So basically we both want to talk about our days**

**but only face to face?**

**[22:24] Izuku: Ugh, why am I grounded again??**

**[22:24] Hitoshi: pretty sure that was the dragons**

**[22:25] Izuku: You can’t see me but I’m rolling my eyes at you right now**

**That was terrible, Hitoshi**

**Terrible**

**[22:26] Hitoshi: I live to please**

They didn’t chat for too long after that. It felt a little awkward, having to dance around so much of what Izuku truly wanted to say like that. Or at least, that was what Izuku himself felt — who knew if Hitoshi felt the same way?

He said his goodbyes to Hitoshi, plugged in his phone, and dove underneath his covers. His wrist made sleeping a little uncomfortable, but it already felt much better compared to yesterday. Izuku could only hope that this was a trend that would continue.

That night, Izuku fell asleep counting the days until his grounding ended. It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.

* * *

It didn’t take long for his father to start realizing Hitoshi had been avoiding him, and as usual, the man had to be obnoxious about it.

He cornered Hitoshi at the breakfast table, offering him a cup of coffee with a grin that was just slightly too wide.

“So,” he said, arching a blond eyebrow, “what are you hiding from me?”

Hitoshi choked on the sip he’d taken, feeling his blood run cold. He’d thought he was being careful, but his father was a pro-hero, trained to hunt and kill dragons — did Hitoshi really have any hope in hiding from him?

“Nothing,” he still replied between his cough, setting down his coffee carefully. “I’m not hiding anything,” he said, forcing himself to speak louder and past the itch in his throat.

Not that his father paid his answer any mind.

“Is it a girlfriend?” His father sing-sang, his eyes dancing.

“No.”

“A boyfriend then?” His father’s green eyes sparkled mischievously. “Is it Izuku? You know I wouldn’t mind if you two started dating — heaven knows he might as well be family already with how close you two are.”

Hitoshi jerked back. Horrifyingly, he could feel his cheeks starting to burn.  _ “I’m not dating Izuku.” _

His father chuckled. “Fine, fine,” he said, raising his hands defensively. His eyes were still sparkling mischievously though, and Hitoshi couldn’t tell if his father had believed him or not.  “But you know I’d be fine with it if you were, right?”

Wishing the ground would open up and swallow him, Hitoshi nodded, mumbling, “I know.” And then, because it felt like he should, he reluctantly added, “Thanks.”

His father’s smile turned soft. “Any time, dear listener. Any time.”

Hitoshi hated how guilty that just made him feel, so he nodded and went back to nursing his coffee, hoping his father wouldn’t call on him again.

He finished quickly, the drink scalding his tongue, and he was out the door before his father had the chance to question him again.

He was halfway down the street when he remembered that it was a Sunday and that he didn’t have class, and that since Izuku was still grounded for a few more days, Hitoshi’s hurried departure would probably only make his father more suspicious.

Hitoshi groaned, and started walking faster. It was too late to turn back now, after all.

His first stop was the fish market. He wasn’t sure the dragon needed to be fed  _ every _ day, but he figured doing so was his best bet at remaining uneaten,  _ and _ getting on the dragon’s best side.

Hitoshi recalled the first time he’d stepped there, asking for as many fish as he could carry — luckily his allowance was more than generous enough, because that had been more expensive than he’d thought. Even so, though, he’d gotten more than his fair share of weird looks, something that had only worsened as he kept coming back with the same request.

By now, Hitoshi was half-sure everyone in that market thought he was either mad or involved in some ‘shady fish business’ (he’d heard a few whispers). Sadly, both were closer to the truth than he’d like.

Because of the fish, people gave him a wide berth on the train, and Hitoshi took advantage of it to doze off until his station. The trip was short, though, and before he knew it, Hitoshi was back into that clearing, tossing a basket full of fish toward a half-cautious, half-eager dragon.

Toothless — it had felt wrong to keep calling him ‘the dragon’ in his head when Hitoshi spent almost all his afternoons around him — fell on the food like he hadn’t eaten in days.

Hitoshi maintained a safe distance as he watched Toothless eat. Luckily, today the dragon didn’t try to share with him — just the thought of that half-regurgitated fish he’d forced himself to take a bite out of made him want to puke, even though the gesture had been oddly nice.

Once he was done, Hitoshi stepped closer, his hand coming up to rest against the dragon’s flank. Toothless flinched, but otherwise stayed still. Inwardly, Hitoshi grinned — last week, he wouldn’t have been able to consider even that much.

Toothless huffed and trotted off to a sunny spot, licking its claws before curling up into a ball. Hitoshi chuckled as he followed, sliding down to the ground next to Toothless’s tail.

“We’re wrong about you,” he said, patting Toothless’s dark scales absently, tracing the edge of that missing fin thoughtfully. “How are we so wrong about you?”

Maybe it was a species thing. Maybe Night Furies were just different from the other dragons that kept attacking them, maybe they weren’t as violent.

But nothing Hitoshi had heard or seen had ever mentioned there being such a difference between different dragon species, and while that would certainly explain why people never actually saw them, Hitoshi couldn’t help but feel that this was too simple.

It was too perfect — no, there had to be more to it than that.

Hitoshi sighed. “I can’t wait to tell Izuku about this,” he mused out loud. “Maybe he’ll be able to make sense of this, because god knows I can’t.”

Toothless, rather predictably, didn’t reply, and Hitoshi sighed again before cracking his back and resuming his sketches of Toothless’s tail and the device he’d sort of been planning for it.

It was going slower than Hitoshi would have preferred, but at least it was going somewhere. It was hardly his fault this type of thing wasn’t his forte, after all, and he couldn’t help that he’d gotten… distracted thinking about maybe adding a saddle too at some point.

Riding a dragon… Hitoshi couldn’t help but wonder what that was like.

Shaking his head, he refocused on his drawings. Daydreaming was nice and all, but actual flying was still a way off into the future.

One day, though…

One day, it wouldn’t be. Hitoshi could feel it.

* * *

Izuku’s Mum ended up cutting his punishment short by one day. Izuku wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be some kind of reward for good behavior, or if it was to celebrate his wrist being healed, but he wasn’t about to complain.

Sadly, it was a school day, so he still had to go to class, but the first thing he did once he was out the door was text Hitoshi.

**[7:12] Izuku:** I’m free!!!

**[7:12] Izuku:** At last!

Grinning, he watched as Hitoshi started to type his answer.

**[7:13] Hitoshi:** ugh it’s too early for that type of excitement

**[7:13] Hitoshi:** but also congrats!

**[7:13] Hitoshi:** wait weren’t you supposed to be grounded till tmrw?

**[7:13] Izuku:** You think any time is too early for excitement, Hitoshi

**[7:14] Izuku:** And thanks!

My mother ended it early :)

**[7:14] Hitoshi:** that’s because it is

**[7:14] Hitoshi:** oh good

wanna meet up this afternoon?

**[7:15] Izuku:** Yes!!!

Izuku then spent the rest of the day wishing time would go faster. He was so excited to tell Hitoshi everything that had happened lately that he even managed to ignore Kacchan’s attempts at bullying him better than usual.

Where he usually preferred to try and stay back as much as he could when class ended, avoiding everyone by being the last one to leave, today Izuku made the effort to leave as soon as the bell rang. He practically raced to his and Hitoshi’s meeting place — the playground being as deserted as ever — only to find his friend already there, waiting for him.

Hitoshi looked tired; though, then again, he always did. Izuku knew him better than that, though, and he could see that his friend was just as excited as Izuku was. Izuku bounded up to him, grinning.

“I was thinking we could, erm, go somewhere else?” Izuku asked nervously after they’d greeted each other.

Hitoshi arched an eyebrow back at him, but he shrugged. “Sure. Where?”

Izuku’s brain froze as he realized he hadn’t quite thought that far. His eyes darted around there, taking in the empty streets as he searched his mind for somewhere to go. He chuckled nervously again.

Finally, something occurred to him, and Izuku winced. The place was perfect. It was close-by and sure to be deserted — the kind of deserted where they wouldn’t even have to fear interruptions.

Hitoshi was going to hate it, though.

Shoulders bent in defeat, Izuku sighed. “Just follow me.”

* * *

When Izuku had said they should go somewhere else, Hitoshi hadn’t expected to be led to Dagobah beach. The place was kind of infamous for being an unofficial garbage dump, after all.

However, now that Hitoshi stood in the place himself, he realized that if anything, the stories he’d heard had understated the state of the place.

He gaped as Izuku led them further into the beach — though it could hardly be called that anymore, considering the huge piles of abandoned appliances that stretched out as far as his eyes could see.

“What the…”

“I know,” Izuku replied with a wince as they finally came to a stop. “This place looks pretty bad.”

“It looks unsafe,” Hitoshi corrected, eyeing the towering piles of garbage dubiously.

Izuku’s wince deepened. “Ah… Yes. That too. We can… leave if you want to? I just thought, since this place is always deserted, we’d be safe to talk. Not that I think anyone’s trying to listen in on us,” he mumbled quickly, “but I kind of don’t want anybody to know and…” Izuku trailed off, blushing. “Sorry.”

Hitoshi bit back a smirk. “It’s fine.” He looked around, sighing as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “And I guess this place is fine too.” He frowned.” How did you even find it?”

Izuku’s nervous chuckle returned. “Ah… Funny story, but my mum kind of wants us to clean up the beach?”

It took a moment for the words to properly register, but when they did, Hitoshi had to gape a little. He looked at Izuku, who was perhaps the shortest boy their age Hitoshi knew, and back to the towering piles of metal that surrounded them. It didn’t compute.

“I’m sorry, she what?”

Izuku nodded miserably. “Yeah.”

“Wait, by ‘us’ did you mean us-us or us-you?”

“Me and her, yeah,” Izuku replied, sighing.

Hitoshi heaved a breath of relief. “I feel for you,” he replied, though now that he knew he wasn’t included in that plan, he could feel his lips quirking up into an amused smirk. “Is it still punishment for the dragon thing?”

Izuku shook his head. “No. I mean, I don’t think so?” He looked like he was considering it, though—almost like he hadn’t thought of that before.

Hitoshi didn’t know why — he may not have met Mrs. Midoriya very often, but he did know her well enough that he didn’t doubt she could be the type to do this.

Izuku shook his head. “She told me it’s for training,” he continued.

Hitoshi frowned, an oddly sour taste rising up his throat. “Training?”

“Oh!” Izuku’s eyes went wide. “Right! I should start at the beginning, shouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Hitoshi snorted. “That sounds like a good idea.”

Izuku pouted back at him. “Don’t mock me, I’m trying. This isn’t exactly easy to explain.”

“I still have no idea what ‘this’ is, though,” Hitoshi retorted, smirking as he shrugged.

Izuku swallowed visibly, rolling his shoulders. “Right,” he repeated. He bit his lips. “Don’t freak out?”

“What do you mean, ‘Don’t… freak… out…’” Hitoshi trailed off, his words stuck in his mouth as he took in Izuku.

His body was wreathed in green lightning, shifting in and out of his skin. Izuku gritted his teeth, brow furrowed in concentration, but when he looked up at Hitoshi, his grin was sheepish. “Surprise?”

Hitoshi almost reached out to poke him, but recalling what had happened with Izuku and the dragon that first time, he wisely held back.

“Does it… do anything?” he asked, trying very hard  _ not _ to freak out.

Izuku chuckled nervously, rubbing his neck. “… I broke the sink?”

Hitoshi blinked again. “You broke the sink.”

“That’s what I said, yes!” Izuku nodded, pouting a little. He turned off the lightning, heaving a deep breath, and Hitoshi felt tension he hadn’t even realized he’d been feeling unwind from his back.

“Right,” Hitoshi said, nodding feebly. “You broke the sink, because now you have like… weird lightning powers you got from a freaking dragon.” He blinked and pinched himself, but alas, this wasn’t a dream.

“I think I need to sit down,” Hitoshi heard himself say.

“Oh no,” Izuku said, alarmed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea — you don’t know what’s in that sand…”

“Too late,” Hitoshi replied, already sat down. His friend had a point though, and Hitoshi decided to keep his hands out of the sand as much as he could.

“If it helps,” Izuku said, “I don’t think it’s actually lightning?”

_ “Then what is it?” _ Hitoshi hissed.

Izuku shrugged helplessly. “Beats me.” He sighed. “It felt like power though — I think that’s how I broke the sink.” He paused. “My mum thinks it’s my quirk.”

Hitoshi’s head jerked up, his heart skipping a beat. “Your mother  _ knows?” _

Izuku shook his head quickly. “No, no,” he said. “I mean, she knows about me developing this… thing, but I didn’t mention the dragon. I’m not insane.”

“Yeah, that’s debatable,” Hitoshi muttered to himself, looking back innocently as his friend when Izuku glared at him.

“Well, it’s not like I could hide that I broke the sink,” Izuku replied defensively.

“I’ve got to admit, I still can’t really picture that.”

Izuku sighed, crossing his arms. “Well, it happened. I’d demonstrate, but…”

“But?” Hitoshi’s eyes narrowed as Izuku tittered nervously.

“I kinda of hurt my wrist last time?” At Hitoshi’s alarmed look, he hastened to add, “It wasn’t broken or anything, don’t worry, just a little sore for a few days — and my mum was there anyway, so she bandaged it immediately.”

Hitoshi hummed back, dubious. Years of friendship had taught him that Izuku not only had a weirdly high pain tolerance, but also that his green-haired friend wouldn’t hesitate to lie to protect Hitoshi’s feelings if he thought it necessary—which was basically whenever he thought Hitoshi might worry about him.

“It’s fine now, though, right?”

Izuku nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah, of course.” As if to demonstrate, he started rotating his wrist in the air, grinning, before letting his arm drop back to his side. “See? Totally fine.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

Once again, Hitoshi hummed. “So… You’re calling this your quirk then?”

“I… Yes?” Izuku faltered. “Is that okay?”

Hitoshi licked his lips slowly, looking down at the sand. “Sure,” he said, and he didn’t know why the word had felt so unwieldy in his mouth.

Apparently though, Izuku did, because he started waving his arms wildly, shaking his head. “I mean, I know it’s probably not really actually a quirk? Like, I’ve never heard of anyone getting one from a dragon — but it was easier to explain it that way to my mother… And we’re still going to become heroes together, right? This doesn’t have to change anything, I can’t even control it right now, not really…”

As Izuku dissolved into slightly frantic muttering, it occurred to Hitoshi that he wasn’t the only one worried about this change. In fact, Izuku probably was  _ more _ worried than Hitoshi — and he was right to be. Hitoshi couldn’t imagine what it was like, gaining a quirk — or whatever that thing was — like this, after so long spent hoping for some kind of power.

In light of that, his own worries that Izuku might be leaving him behind felt trivial and honestly, quite stupid.

Hitoshi heaved a sigh. “It’s fine,” he said, interrupting his friend’s increasingly worrying muttering. “I don’t mind that you have a quirk now.”

Izuku blinked. “You don’t?”

Hitoshi only barely managed to conceal his wince at his friend’s surprise. He scowled, crossing his arms. “No.”

“Oh, good. That’s good.”

An awkward silence fell over them, only ruptured by the distant sound of waves crashing on the shore. Izuku stared at the ground, twisting his hands, and Hitoshi stared at him.

After a while, though, Hitoshi sighed and stood up, dusting the sand off his legs. It was time, he guessed, to share his own secret.

“Come on,” he said, “I need to tell you something too.”

* * *

It took Izuku longer than he cared to admit to realize where, exactly, Hitoshi was taking them. In his defense, he’d only been there once, and Hitoshi had taken there through a much different path.

Still, Izuku should probably have realized their destination at least some time  _ before _ they reached the forest — the train, for one, should have been a dead giveaway.

Izuku sighed, hurrying after his friend as he navigated between the trees. Hitoshi had been silent since the beach — since Izuku had told him about his quirk — but here, this silence only felt heavier. It weighed on Izuku’s shoulders, wrapped around his throat and choked out the words he wanted to say.

_ Hitoshi told you he was fine with it, _ Izuku told himself again. It was something he’d been repeating as a mantra ever since they’d left Dagobah beach, but it wasn’t as helpful as he’d like it to be.

He couldn’t help but feel that he’d betrayed his friend somehow by acquiring this power. Especially, perhaps, since they’d spent the last  _ years _ planning to become heroes without the powerful quirks their society seemed so fond of.

Of course, it wasn’t like Izuku had asked for it. He didn’t even know what  _ it _ was, not yet — perhaps not ever. All he knew for sure was that he’d gotten it from that Night Fury they’d shot down, but that was less than helpful.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice they’d stopped, and he walked right into Hitoshi’s back, almost sending them both tumbling down.

“We’re here,” Hitoshi said, unnecessarily.

The words ‘where’s here?’ died on Izuku’s lips as he finally recognized the clearing that opened in front of them.

“Oh,” he said, rocking back on his heels. “Right. Here.”

Hitoshi sent him an odd look before shaking his head. “Yeah. Here.”

The absurdity of their discussion stuck Izuku suddenly, and he couldn’t help but laugh. It started out with just a giggle, really, but it grew quickly, even spreading to a reluctant Hitoshi, who tried very hard not to laugh but failed.

They were still chuckling when they walked into the clearing proper, and Izuku felt better than he had since he’d told Hitoshi about what had happened to him. Surely, he thought, if they could still laugh like this, Hitoshi truly was fine with everything.

His cheer died a quick death, however, as he found himself face to face with a far too familiar dragon, whose large eyes were narrowed in on him.

Izuku froze, his eyes straining to stare at Hitoshi pleadingly. He was actually quite sure he’d also stopped breathing.

Hitoshi just blinked as he came to a stop next to Izuku, looking unconcerned with the dragon that was  _ right there. _

(And yes, Izuku had stood this close to him already, but the dragon had been bound then, and then he hadn’t stuck around once he’d been freed. How was Hitoshi so blasé about this?)

Hitoshi smirked, waving a hand between the dragon and Izuku. “Toothless, meet Izuku. Izuku, Toothless.”

“You  _ named  _ him?” Izuku sputtered, finally finding his breath again.

“He has retractable teeth,” Hitoshi replied, like that explained everything.

Well, Izuku guessed it explained the name, even if it wasn’t quite the type of answer he’d had in mind.

“Right,” Izuku heard himself say faintly. “Of course he does.”

As if on cue, the dragon —  _ Toothless,  _ apparently, demonstrated it, curling up his lips to reveal empty gums that, in less than a second, filled with gleaming white teeth.

Izuku gulped, and just like that, the teeth were gone again.

It was  _ fascinating, _ and Izuku’s hands itched to write it down.

Toothless wandered off again though, seemingly happy to return to his nap (?) now that introductions had been made, and Izuku had to fight the urge to follow after him.

He looked back at Hitoshi questioningly instead.

“So....” He gestured at the clearing. “That’s your secret then? What you’ve been doing while I was grounded?”

Hitoshi shrugged. “Yeah. I’ve been coming here — I didn’t expect Toothless to still be there the first time I did, but…” He shrugged again, and Izuku followed his line of sight slowly.

It took him a beat to realize what, exactly, he was staring at, but when he did his eyes went wide. “Oh! It’s missing a —”

“Yeah.” Hitoshi nodded grimly, kicking around a pebble. “It can’t really fly on its own.” His eyes flicked to Izuku, answering his unasked question. “And yeah, we did that.”

It was hard not to feel guilty at that. Izuku knew, logically, that he didn’t  _ really _ have anything to feel guilty about — at the time, as far as they knew, Toothless had been attacking their city, and taking him down had been for the greater good. 

Izuku knew this. He did, really. And yet… It was hard to remember this when said dragon menace was harmlessly curled up on the ground just a few feet away from them.

“I’ve been trying to think of a way to fix it, though.” Hitoshi’s voice dragged Izuku away from his thoughts, but when he looked at his friend, Hitoshi was still staring off into the distance.

It would have been easy to dismiss Hitoshi’s statement as standoffish or uncaring, but Izuku knew his friend better than that — Hitoshi cared. He just didn’t want to be too obvious about it in case Izuku didn’t.

That was stupid — of course Izuku cared. A chance to help a dragon fly again was priceless, and well, what kind of hero would he be if he didn’t help with Hitoshi’s project?

Izuku grinned excitedly. “Tell me everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had Hitoshi name him Toothless because a) I'm lazy like that and it's a perfectly good name and b) I actually feel like Hitoshi would be the type to name a dragon Toothless too so :p

**Author's Note:**

> To anyone familiar with the franchise: no, I'm not planning on killing Hizashi, I'm not that cruel :p


End file.
